Girl From Gunner Valley
by TheNightRunner
Summary: Second in the Gunner Valley series. The drovers never knew that travellin' with a girl would be so... different. Weeks from the nearest town, there are ups and downs and misunderstandings all along the way. But even through the lows, the Gil Favor crew prove themselves the best bunch of men a girl could ask to step in with, even if only until the next town.
1. Chapter 1

**Welcome! This is the second part in my Gunner Valley series, the first of which was Incident of Gunner Valley.**

 **I would like to firstly say that in the last chapter of Incident of Gunner Valley, I made an error. I had somehow forgotten that they were three weeks away from town, not two. I went back and corrected this, but I would like to apologize for this confusion.**

 **As always, your reviews are much appreciated, so please do so!**

 **Warnings: Violence and some suggestive material throughout.** **Individual chapters have appropriate warnings. There will be a _attempted_ rape scene in a later chapter, but it will not be descriptive and the chapter will be marked so. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

Some people believe in fate, while others would rather think that everything that happens is by pure chance. Drovers may be rough, but when you look past all the trials of the trail, the lives they lead are simple ones. Whether or not they believe in destiny don't make much difference to the cattle, and to be honest it don't make much difference to me, neither. As for myself, I don't really know. Strange things happen, that's for sure. But things happening by fate? Well, maybe one day I'll make up my mind about that. But for now, I'll stick to takin' care of my cattle and my men.

I'm Gil Favor, trail boss.

* * *

Blue eyes looked up from the plate of breakfast from under the broad brim of a well-used hat. The owner of the hat continued eating the rest of his food, hardly hearing the usual sounds that came with breakfast. Men talking, cattle lowing, fire crackling, Wishbone scolding Mushy for something or another, it all converged together into a familiar background noise. The only thing Gil Favor really heard was the clattering of dish pans. And only that was because of the person who was clattering those dishes.

Emily did the dishes off to the side of camp, as she had been doing for the last three days after every meal. No one had asked her to do it, and she in fact had to twist Wishbone's arm into allowing her the work. She never complained about much, except for an occasional fuss at Wishbone, and in her presence the men were at their most content.

And yet he realized that he had been the person in the whole outfit to spend the least amount of time with her. She always welcomed him, and he could see that she did make at the very least a small effort to get to know him like the others. Yet he always came up with a duty that would bring him away from her. It dawned on him now what he had been doing all this time: Avoiding her. He hadn't been doing it intentionally, it just sort of happened.

Of course Rowdy, if he had noticed the boss's increased absence, didn't say anything about it. He was more than happy to take up boss's slack. There didn't seem to be a moment when Rowdy was on break that he wasn't with the girl. Even when he was working, the Gil often caught him gazing over at the wagon.

Gil did notice, however, that some tension had seemed to come between Rowdy and Mushy. The cook's louse seemed to be completely unaware of it, but he just about the only one. Of course Rowdy never made a scene when Emily was around, but whenever she was looking the other way, Rowdy could be caught shooting Mushy a dirty look. Whenever she was out of earshot, Rowdy would ride the boy's back like a taskmaster.

The reason for this, it seemed plain to Gil, was jealousy. Mushy and Wishbone were the two men who had the most time with her, since she rode in the wagon with them all day long. It was only natural that she would be better acquainted with them than with the other men. Only Rowdy couldn't seem to accept that. Wishbone was no threat to Rowdy, of course, but Mushy was young and, though ignorant, a sweet kid that Emily seemed to like.

There was one bone that Rowdy had to pick with Wishbone, though. While Emily spent every camp-time rubbing elbows with the men, nobody was very happy with Wishbone insisting she go to bed early.

"She's old enough to decide when she wants to go to bed for herself," Jim finally protested a night back.

"She's got ta recover from that wound, 'n 'at means lots o' rest!" Wishbone had replied, ushering off the not-exactly pleased girl.

Nevertheless, despite what Rowdy's suspicious mind thought, Emily remained closest to to ramrod. Though they did not have as much time together as she did with her fellow wagon-riders, she was most open with him than with anyone else.

"Hey, boss," Rowdy approached Gil, carrying his cup over to where he sat down beside the older man before continuing in a low voice,"You know, I was talkin' with miss Carter last night, and - "

"Yeah, I know," Gil replied flatly, taking another bite of his biscuit. How could anyone have missed? Rowdy had volunteered to help with the dishes just to be able to talk with her alone.

The young ramrod smiled, somewhat bashfully, before going on. "Well anyway, I was talkin' to her, 'n she, uh, mentioned that she'd like to go ridin' for a little while. Instead of bein' in the wagon all day, I mean." Rowdy studied the boss's face for a moment, building up nerve to continue on.

Of course Gil already knew what he was getting at.

"So, uh... Do ya think someone oughtta show her around, maybe...?"

Gil went on chewing his food thoughtfully for several moments more, until his head slowly started nodding.

"Ya know, I think that's a real good idea..." he finally replied, pushing the last piece of bread into his mouth.

Rowdy let out a breath, his smile widening. "Oh, that's great, boss! I'll - "

"I've been meanin' to get better acquainted with her, anyway,"Gil finished, getting to his feet and brushing some of the dust off of his clothes.

The grin dropped from Rowdy's face. He sat there a moment, running over what the boss had just told him, before scrambling up to his feet to go after the man. "Hey, wait boss! I - "

But Gil had already headed for Emily, ignoring the boy. He tipped his hat at the girl. "Food was good, miss Carter," he gave her a polite smile.

His smile was returned as soon as she looked up and saw him. Rowdy felt a tinge of envy nip at him, but stood back and let his boss be.

"I only handed the plates out," she shook her head. A twinkle came into her eye as she wiped her hands dry on a towel.

Gil shrugged, looking down at the stack of dishes she had just finished. "Well, I just thought I might ask if you wanted to ride point with me for a while. Interested?"

She perked up visibly at that. "I'd love to!" she tossed the dish towel down on the table. She stuck her little fingers into her mouth, letting out a distinct whistle. It was the one she had showed the men a few days ago that she used to call in her horse. "Oh, but wait..." she paused, glancing over in the direction of the creek where Wishbone and Mushy were filling up the water barrel. "Won't I be needed?"

Gil followed her gaze. "Wishbone may be ailin' later that I took ya, but I think they'll get along," he smirked down at her," Come on."

Emily was nothing less than thrilled, but unknown to anyone else it was more than just the riding that got her all excited.

Her horse, which she had insisted be allowed to roam without being tied up, soon came trotting up.

Gil watched her pat the horse on the nose fondly. "I'll get you a - "

"I'll get you a saddle, miss Carter!" Rowdy spoke up quick and cut off Gil, which the boss found slightly annoying. He fought a frown as he watched Rowdy turn to go do as he had said.

He glanced down at the girl. "I guess he'll go get you a saddle."

* * *

Though Rowdy would have loved to take his time saddling the horse up, for the sake of buying just a little more time with Emily, he also wanted to impress her. For this reason, he tacked the mount up in double time. Even Gil was somewhat impressed at how fast the boy was capable of working, when motivated.

He snorted. _Boys._

Gil would have liked to make some remark, but then decided that maybe it would be best not to embarrass the boy in front of the girl.

"Thank you, Mr. Yates," Emily rewarded him with another smile.

Rowdy glowed, and Gil could just barely keep from rolling his eyes.

Emily walked over to the paint horse, her back to the men, grabbing the horn of the saddle in preparation for mounting.

Both men eyed each other, before scrambling to get to her side. This time Gil beat Rowdy, who turned on his heels while adjusting his hat as if that seriously did not just happen.

The winner offered his hand to Emily, who had turned around when she heard the sound of boots in a hurry, but only saw Rowdy looking around innocently. She then turned her eyes to Gil's hand.

"Oh, thank you, Mr. Favor!" she sounded very pleased at the gesture, much to the ramrod's annoyance and Gil's triumph. She took his hand and mounted her horse. Of course it didn't really make it easier getting up on a horse while having to hold someone's hand, but she wasn't about to complain.

"We're movin' in five minutes!" Gil called to his men. He then headed for the remuda for his own horse. Rowdy followed him.

"Hey, boss..." Rowdy stepped close behind the dark-haired man in lead.

"What now, Rowdy?" Gil breathed, bordering exasperation.

 _Couldn't the boy just leave him alone?_

"Well, the girl. I'd - "

"What _about_ the girl?" Gil didn't look back at the boy as he checked the saddle over, before pulling himself up into it.

He was about to move on before Rowdy could answer, but Rowdy reached up to put a hand on the horn of the saddle. "Look, boss, can you just let me talk?"

Gil stopped his horse, hearing a hint of pleading in the young man's voice now. He let out a sigh, before slowly lowering his eyes to Rowdy's.

"What?"

Rowdy shifted on his feet. "Could ya maybe just say a little somethin' good about me? It don't have to be much..."

Gil held his gaze, before finally giving a small snort. "Alright, boy."

He touched his spurs to the flanks of his horse, and was soon trotting off to join the waiting girl.

* * *

Emily rode along beside Gil, their pace moderate.

Gil knew they could be at the next town in twelve or thirteen days if they pushed the beeves hard. But the grazing here was good, the land agreeable to beast and man. If it had not been for the fact that the girl probably wanted to get to some relatives, he probably would have dragged the time out longer. But if he sent her on ahead of the herd with on of the men, she could make town in less than a week.

"You got any relatives around here, miss Carter?" he asked, glancing over at her.

She turned to look at him, but returned her gaze to the trail ahead of them after a brief moment. Her head shook, just slightly. "No."

Silence.

"Well, now that you're well enough to ride I can have one of the boys take you to town," he told her, studying her face,"You can be on the stage by the time next week comes 'round."

"That's not necessary," she quickly glanced back to him, seeming to have been caught by surprise by his suggestion.

Gil was a little surprised himself, seeing how eager to get to town she _didnt_ seem to be.

There was once again a silence as they both sunk deep into thought, facing ahead. Gil tried to piece this all together. One would think that a girl would want to be close to her nearest kin after having her parents so savagely killed.

"Where's your family?" he finally asked, his voice softer.

He waited for an answer until he was nearly convinced that she wasn't going to give him one. But the answer he finally did get didn't make him feel any better. "Your men buried them, Mr. Favor."

He looked over at her. She didn't return the gesture, continuing to gaze ahead. Her face was unreadable, but Gil could guess what she was feeling. Now he could sort of understand why she didn't seem eager to get to town.

There were other questions that he would have loved to ask her, but only one of them seemed appropriate at this point.

"Where will you go?"

Emily looked toward the herd of cattle that walked in a long stretch beside them. It was a familiar sight, comforting. She went on watching them as she tried to think of an answer to his question. She didn't rightly know the answer herself.

"Well..." she sighed," I guess I'll take a stage to Abilene when we get to town," She cast a sideways glance at the trail boss. "Unless..."

Gil shook his head, trying his best to be gentle. "Sorry, miss Carter."

She nodded. "Yeah, I figured that."

A warm breeze swept over them, causing the girl's hair to flutter and wave behind her.

"How long do you think it'll be till we reach Bainton?" Emily asked quietly.

The question itself was innocent enough. But Gil knew what she was really getting at.

"You aught to know just as well as me..." he said slowly.

Emily didn't answer.

"... but about sixteen days, normal pace." He stretched his back, before relaxing back into the saddle. He looked over at her once again, then back to the drive ahead. "But we're moving a little slower than usual."

Gil sneaked a glance at the girl, and was pleased to see a hint of a smile growing on the girl's lips.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky, but the cattle moved on.

Gil and Emily had done a lot of talking since they first started out that morning, talking about places they had been and people they had met. She was easy to talk to, and he was easy-going.

"Mr. Favor," she finally said,"Are you married?"

Part of him had not expected her to ask, and part of him had just been waiting for it.

He smiled slightly, looking away. "I was. She died several years back."

"I'm sorry..." she sounded like she had regretted asking.

But he shook his head. "It's fine... I miss her, but you heal some after time."

A moment passed.

"I have two daughters, though. Gillian and Maggie."

"Gillian..." she laughed lightly," Cute. I suppose that was your wife's idea?"

"I thought it was a bit odd when she told me, too," he admitted with an affectionate chuckle,"but she insisted on naming the first after me."

Emily could hear the love in his voice as he spoke of his girls. It aroused something inside her, a longing for love that had been quenched by death.

"I suppose you don't see 'em very often," she said, her voice now slightly less at ease.

Gil heard the difference, but couldn't quiet decide what had caused the change.

"No, only about once or twice a year."

A pause.

"Who takes care of 'em?" her tone had recovered a bit now.

"My sister-in-law, Eleanor. She's got a house up in Philadelphia." Emily whistled. "Boy, that's along way... You got plans for a ranch of your own?"

Gil let out a breath, raising his eyes up to the sky. "Well, now. Yeah, I got plenty o' plans... But money to make 'em happen is somethin' I'm a bit short on."

Emily nodded.

"But who knows, at the end of the drive I might just have enough money to start up a place of my own."

They both turned at the same time, their eyes meeting.

"You'd be a good rancher, Mr. Favor,"Emily said, her voice low and sure, her eyes warm with some knowledge that he couldn't figure out.

Gil tilted his head, raising an eyebrow. "How ya figure that?" he asked, curiosity once again rising within him. Something in her eyes seemed to call to him, _I know something you don't._

But his only reply was a puff of laughter from the girl riding beside him. He couldn't help but smile right along with her.

And in all the good-natured fellowship, Gil had forgotten all about Rowdy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Warnings: Lightly suggestive themes. Nothing descriptive or anything, just a few things that go with the awkward truths of bathing.  
**

* * *

Baths were few and far between on a cattle drive. This country, however, offered many opportunities for a place to wash.

Camp had been made next to a large creek. Usually it was pretty simple, just take your clothes off and jump on in. But that's when there isn't a girl around.

Emily had sufficed to sponge off every night and wash her hair every other day. This was enough to keep her feeling clean, as well as smelling nice. But now Wishbone decided that it simply wasn't enough.

"Why, she cain't be spongin' off in the wagon, while you men are splashin' around in some real water," he told Gil while she was off helping Mushy with the dishes,"She _is_ a lady, after all."

"I suppose you have an idea,"Gil stated, looking up at the cook standing over him. He had to admit, this was not a conversation that made him very comfortable. But it had to be addressed, and he was glad that Wishbone was taking charge of it.

Wishbone looked satisfied that things were going his way thus far. "As a matter of fact, I do." He nodded in the direction of the river. "You take the men to wash up over there, 'n I'll fill up the tub for her inside the wagon."

Gil pursed his lips, considering the proposal for a moment. "You're just going to let a girl take a bath with a bunch of naked men running around?"

It's not that he didn't trust his men. But the temptation to peek in must might be too much for them to bear.

Now he remembered why he always avoided allowing women to tag along. He could feel a headache coming on just thinking about all this.

"Course not!" Wishbone scoffed, just a little too loud. He looked around to make sure none of the other men were picking up on their conversation. Safe. "We'll keep the men all together in the river, maybe have one of your more - " he cleared his throat," trusted, restrained men keep an eye on the wagon. Make sure nobody bothers her."

Gil closed his eyes, messaging his temple. Wishbone waited for the answer as the boss thought it over, obviously not very excited about this whole subject.

A sigh finally puffed through the trail boss's lips. "Fine."

Wishbone grinned. Triumph. "So who ya gonna call to be lady-watch?"

* * *

Pete stood under a tree at the edge of camp, not exactly hiding, but not sticking right out either. His thumbs were hooked to his belt buckle, his stance uneasy and nearly fidgeting. He glanced around anxiously.

He wasn't doing anything wrong, yet why did he feel so queasy about this?

The rest of the men, save the ones watching the herd, were splashing around in the river about twenty yards away. At an equal distance, the supply wagon sat in the camp, forming a triangle with Pete and the bathing men.

Why did it have to be him that watched the wagon? The wagon with a girl taking a bath in it? Why did he have to be the one?

Quince would have been just as reliable, and Mushy was harmless. Mr. Favor was boss, why wasn't he doing this?

Pete was never a nervous man, but this just wasn't in his job description.

"Oh, you're just standin' around, starin' at a wagon," Mr. Favor had played it down right nicely, but he wasn't fooling Pete.

"Well why don't you do it, then?" Pete demanded, watching the trail boss pull his boots off.

"Because I'm about to take a bath, and you're not."

 _I would be if you would'a let me._

Deep down, Pete understood why he had been chose. But he still didn't like it.

"Does she know I'll be watching her – the wagon?" Pete had grudgingly given up talking the boss out of it.

"Well, ah, we could tell her..." Gil unbuttoned his shirt, laying it down on a rock next to the river,"but she might find it just as objectionable as you do."

Pete scowled just thinking about it all. This just beat it all.

And so he stood around under the tree, unsuccessfully trying to occupy his mind with thoughts of the land and scouting. His thoughts froze, however when a pair of slender, tanned arms pushed appeared from behind the wagon covering. They shook out a wet shirt, before dropping it across a barrel standing next to the wagon. The arms disappeared briefly, before reappearing and shaking out some pants and laying them next to the shirt.

A head of long, brown hair peeked out, looking around briefly, before pulling back into the wagon.

Pete had watched wide-eyed, not a single intelligent thought passing through his mind. When he finally came to, he shook his head. He turned around, running his fingers through his curls.

"What a stupid idea," he grumbled under his breath, suddenly feeling a few degrees warmer.

Emily, on the other hand, was quiet comfortable.

Wishbone had heated her up some water and given her a fresh bar of soap and some clean duds to wear until her clothes were dry. She had washed her outfit before getting into the tub, so that it would have a little time to dry while she was washing up.

She was completely oblivious to the controversy she was causing. All she knew was that it felt great to be taking a real bath again. She scrubbed herself, sometimes humming, sometimes whistling. Sometimes even singing a line here and there to some song she had heard in the past.

And then she simply sat and relaxed in the warm water.

It wasn't as nice as it could have been, though. Wishbone had only filled the tub half way, so that the water-mark wouldn't reach her wound.

"You be careful with it, now,"he had told her in that stern voice he liked to use,"No splashin' around er nothin'. It's gonna be a real mess if ya start bleedin' all over the bath tub."

It wasn't until nearly an hour later, when the water had gotten too cold to be very comfortable, that she climbed out. She was feeling fresh as a fish in a spring, while Pete continued pacing around under that oak, sucking furiously at a cigarette.

* * *

By the time nigh meal came around, Gil had forgotten all about the hard time Pete had given him, and Pete had likewise forgotten about the boss's infuriating demands.

The men had just came back in from bedding the steers down, and were nice and hungry.

"That sure smells good!" Jim called as he dismounted from his horse.

"Smells like it always smells,"Wishbone replied.

The men got in line to claim their grub, which consisted of the usual potatoes and beef. Mushy had found some onions, though, which added some extra flavor. After they filled their plate, they went for the coffee. Jim Quince was last to get there, having been distracted by small talk with Emily.

"Sorry, Mr. Quince, I'm all out o' coffee," Mushy said, shaking the coffee pot," I'll have to make some more."

"That's alright, Mushy," Jim replied, though he sounded disappointed. But he headed over to take a seat next to the fire.

Emily followed him over and sat down next to him. "Here, you can have my coffee," she offered, raising her nearly untouched cup.

"Oh, no, I don't need it that bad, miss," he quickly replied, but the way he eyed the cup said differently.

"No, really, I've had plenty," she assured him, pressing the cup toward him.

He hesitated, but eventually took it. "Much obliged, miss Carter," he smiled gratefully. A man needs his coffee working a job like this, she must have known drovers really liked their joe.

She smiled and nodded, but Jim was somewhat stupefied when she started leaning in towards him. He didn't move as she came closer and closer, then closed her eyes. The sounds of the camp quieted to a silence, but Jim was too busy being frozen to look around. Consequently, he didn't see Mushy gaping blankly, or Rowdy stiffening, or Wishbone making a disgusted face. He didn't see how all the men were staring. His own eyes were wide, watching as she stopped about a half foot from his chest. She took a big, long breath. Then, shaking her head with a grin, pulled back and started eating her food.

"Boy, we all smell great," she commented, forking a piece of beef into her mouth nonchalantly.

"Here, here!" Joe agreed, giving Jim a teasing wink.

Fortunately, the fire light didn't show off Jim's flush very much. But then he didn't look exactly displeased, either. In fact, he afterwards smirked, seeing the look on Rowdy's face. "We sure do, ma'am."

* * *

The time when Wishbone liked to put Emily to bed was drawing near. She had tried again to talk him out of the curfew several times, with Rowdy and some other men to back her up. But the cook didn't budge.

"You have fifteen minutes,"he concluded, looking the men who had tried to defy him up and down before turning his back to them.

Emily let out a sigh.

"I guess I'll get ready for bed,"she gave the men a shrug.

Usually, women wear their hair up during the day, and then take it down before they go to bed. Emily, however, always wore her hair in a braid when she went to sleep.

"I get real bad bed tangles," she had told Mushy.

So she got out the brush that Mushy had dug up for her, and the little mirror that Rowdy had loaned to her. She positioned the mirror so that she could see herself and then started brushing out her hair in front of it.

The sounds of the men talking were barely there at all. Wishbone quietly ordered Mushy around, while Gil talked with Pete about the land ahead.

"It's still lookin' pretty easy from here just short of Bainton," Pete said, pointing to a place on the map about two thirds of the way between the herd and the nearest town. "After here, the water is a little more spread out, but the grazin's still green."

"Alright, now what about - " Gil stopped, suddenly realizing that him and the scout were just about the only ones talking. He looked around to see the men watching the girl as she fixed her hair.

 _Do they really need to be told how to act all the time?_

Gil cleared his throat, loud and pointedly. Rowdy in particular jumped, and they looked back at the boss like they had just been caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

"Yeah, the weather's real nice," Rowdy quickly said, and looked over at Quince, who had been just as guilty.

It took Quince a moment to catch on. "Oh, yeah! Real nice..."

The jabber started up, minimally and distractedly due to the fact that the men were still trying to discreetly steal glances at the girl.

"Boy, remember the good time we had back in Morgan...?" Teddy asked absently, looking from the corner of his eye.

"Yeah..." Joe Scarlett replied slowly,"The food was just horrible..."

None of them seemed to notice Gil crossing his arms, leaning back against the tree he was sitting under, with a look of disapproval on his face as he watched his men.

"Yeah, that was great..." came Jim.

"Yeah, I remember..." Rowdy pretended his was checking over his gun, peeking up from under his hat," They were having a special... what was it, Pete...?"

Something seemed to have caught the girl's attention in the mirror. She pulled her hair, which had now been braided, to the side of her shoulder so that her neck was visible. Raising her chin, she started examining a place on her neck, along with everyone else.

"Neck..."

Gil quickly glanced over to the scout beside him, something akin to alarm in his eyes.

 _Not him, too!_

Pete must have realized what he had started to stare right after he spoke, and turned to meet the boss's upset eyes. All Pete could do was shrug. But he, like Gil, was just glad that Emily hadn't seemed to be paying any attention to them.

"Yeah, that was it,"Teddy nodded his head slowly, still totally unaware of how the conversation was going.

Wishbone was wiping off pans over to the side, listening with a very unimpressed scowl on his face.

"Alright, missy, it's time for you to bed down," He finally said, having enough of all the nonsense going on.

"Alright, Mr. Wishbone," Emily sighed. She got up to put the brush and mirror back where she had gotten them.

"I think maybe you men should get to bed, too," Gil said, getting to his feet.

He felt the protest coming before any of the men could even open a mouth, and silenced them all with a glare.

But it wasn't long before a low grumble spread through the camp, even as the men went to put their bedding down.

"Now, jest what do you think your doin'?" Wishbone came up behind Emily, who was pulling her bedding out from the wagon.

"Well, I feel a lot better now,"she replied, stopping her work,"I just thought that I should be sleeping on the ground like the rest."

"Your a lady!"Wishbone stared hard down at the blankets, then back up at her.

"The ground isn't much harder than the wagon."

Wishbone huffed. "You feel safe sleeping in the middle of a bunch 'o drovers?" He eyed the men from the corner of his eye, at which the drovers who had been watching quickly looked away to pretend they weren't listening.

"I've never felt safer than when I'm with my drovers," she replied.

 _My drovers._

A curious choice in words.

If drovers could have lit up, there would have been about twenty candles walking around the camp about that moment.

Wishbone crossed his arms, giving her a once over. The corner of his mouth curved down. "Mr. Favor?"

Gil been arranging his bed like the others, but he had to admit it was hard not to eavesdrop.

"Oh, ah, yeah. I guess it's alright for now." He looked over at the two.

Emily smiled, tugging the rest of her bedding out. "Thanks, Mr. Favor!"

That about summed up what the men would have liked to say to the boss as well, if they hadn't of thought that he would chew them up and spit them back out for doing such.

Emily went around to the side of the wagon and tossed her blankets under, then crawled in behind them.

Rowdy licked his lips, glancing around, before slowly walking over to the wagon. He nonchalantly laid his own blankets down next to the wheels.

"Mind if I bed down here?" he asked quietly, not particularly wanting the others to overhear.

Emily looked up from where she had been flattening out a wrinkle, but she seemed happy that he had come. "Not at all!"

Rowdy smiled, and spread his stuff out. He hadn't seen the eyes that had been carefully watching him.

"Pete."

That was all Gil had to say before the scout picked his newly laid equipment back up and lugged it over to the wagon.

He trusted Rowdy, he really did. But it couldn't hurt to keep an eye on him.

Rowdy looked up as Pete made his approach. They held gazes for a moment, before Rowdy went on preparing his bed. He knew he didn't really have a right to say anything. He was lucky he had been allowed to stay at all. Pete dropped his saddle on the other side of Rowdy and began fixing his own little bed.

"I hope another won't crowd ya too much, miss Carter?" he called politely over to the girl.

She glanced up, crawling into her blankets. "'Course not. Always glad to have you around, Mr. Nolan." She gave him a smile, settling into her crude bed.

Pete had come over to keep an eye on Rowdy, but as he laid down for the night he decided he couldn't really blame the boy. In fact, he understood fully. Just about any man would go out of their way just to see a smile like she could give. Warm, welcoming, sincere. Like she wasn't just putting on because it was polite and that's what she was supposed to do, or because that's what would get you to pull your money out. Like she truly liked you. For drovers, that meant a lot.

"Good night, boys!" the girl called, same as she had done every night since she came out of her unconsciousness several nights ago.

And like every night, a heartfelt reply came.

"'Night, miss Carter!"

Gil shook his head once again, and let out a heavy breath. He closed his eyes, pulling his hat down over them.

 _'Just hope she don't get the notion to take over as trail boss_ , Gil thought with a snort, _The men might actually go along with it._

But he wasn't quiet as annoyed as he would have liked to think. A deep slumber soon fell over him, and he slept through the night in peace.


	3. Chapter 3

Rowdy came up to sit beside Emily, a cup in hand. He went off earlier saying he had to go get something, a mischievous glimmer in his eye. He wouldn't tell her what it was he was getting, so Emily finally gave up and went to work helping prepare breakfast. But now she could see what it was.

Rowdy offered her the cup. "First time's free," he said, smirking.

Emily looked into the metal mug to find it filled with milk, still warm.

Emily slapped his leg with her hat, before dropping it back on her head. "You think you're real cute, don'cha?" But she was smirking, and after wiping her hands off took the cup and started working on it's contents.

Gil, who sat off to the side, raised an eyebrow.

 _An inside joke._

The men nearby had no idea what that was all about, which for some reason he could not explain gave Rowdy great satisfaction. As he sat down next to the girl, however, his eyes paused on Pete. He could detect the smallest hint of amusement in his eyes?

 _Well, maybe there's_ _**one**_ _other person in on it_...

Good-nights may have been exchanged, but that hadn't stopped the two younger people chattering on through the night in quiet whispers. They had both enjoyed themselves very much, rattling on about a lot of nothing in particular. They had been far away enough from the others that the drovers had not been disturbed.

But then there had been Pete, laying on the other side of Rowdy. He'd had his face covered with his hat, consistently taking long, heavy breaths. But Rowdy knew better than to think he was asleep, and Emily didn't seem to mind either way. Neither of them paid him any attention.

Pete, for his part, was surprised that he was not sleepy like he thought he was going to be. The two must have went on for hours. Some interesting trivia had come up. He knew that they knew he wasn't sleeping, but that hadn't seemed to bother them and so he didn't let it bother him. It was good for the girl to have someone to talk to. Heck, maybe it was good for Rowdy, too.

"I've been thinkin'," Emily took the empty plate from the last drover, and went to set them on the wagon table,"Maybe it'd be better if y'all just called me Emily, or Carter. No more miss." She looked over the faces to gauge their reactions.

"Any particular reason?" Gil asked, adjusting his hat as he got to his feet.

"Well, I know this is a drive 'n all," Emily said slowly,"we still have a good ways to go and y'all aren't really used to havin' a girl around. So I think it might be best if the men just started... well, trying to think of me as more of a boy, instead of a lady. Hard to do that when y'all 'er always callin' me miss." She paused. "You... sorta see where I'm comin' from?"

Gil rubbed his jaw, considering her words. "Yeah, I guess..."

"It'd be sorta hard to do that, ma'am,"came Clay Forester's smooth voice,"I don't think any of us has seen a boy as purdy as you."

Emily pursed her lips. "Well, maybe if I cut the hair...?" She waved the end of her braid.

"No, no," Pete quickly spoke up, loudest among the protests from the other drovers. He looked from Emily to Gil, then quieted the men with a glance. "That won't be necessary. Right, boys?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Sure."

"Oh, yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Carter."

Gil raised an eyebrow. "I guess you're one of the boys now... Carter." He gave her a wink. "Now, you wanna get your horse saddled?"

"Whatever you say, boss," Emily replied, giving him a playful salute before heading off to get a saddle.

Emily proved adequate when saddling a horse. I wasn't long before she and Gil were once again riding out toward point.

"By the way, what did you do on the drive?" Gil asked,"Cook or something?"

Emily laughed. "Nah, I rode - " She stopped abruptly, as if a sudden realization just hit her. "I rode drag. All those years, I rode drag." Her eyebrows scrunched together as she thought back to all those mini drives she accompanied her father on.

Gil raised an eyebrow, amusement showing in his blue eyes. "Drag?"

"Drag! All that dust I ate, and I didn't give daddy half as hard a time as I shoulda." She huffed. "You'd think a man would show some favoritism to his own daughter..."

Gil chuckled. "I guess he had his reasons..."

"'It's 'gainst my better judgment ta bring you alawng, anyhow,'"she pulled her chin in, mimicking a low voice in a very exaggerated fashion,"'ya better pull yer weight, missy.'"

Gil shook his head, still amused by the uncovering. "You father must have been a very objective man."

Emily let out another snort. "Probably just thought I would be least in the way back there, to be honest."

"Or maybe he did it because it's the safest place," Gil said, shooting her a glance.

Emily hadn't thought of that. Drag was where there was consistently most men, which _would_ meant more protection on her part. Riding drag was easiest and safest, save for all that dust you swallow. She had never given this much thought, but already this trail boss had showed his many similarities to her father.

She looked over at him, studying his face. "You know, you remind me a lot of my father."

Gil hadn't expected this.

"The way you act, sometimes it's almost like watchin' him..."she paused, before going on, raising her eyes to the sky as she pictured him. "He was tall and dark-haired, too. Had a low voice... real handsome." She smiled, glancing over at the trail boss.

 _So that was it._ He knew he should have been flattered. And maybe he was a little at her last statement. But she thought of him as a father figure. That's why she always seemed so warm towards him. Gil wasn't sure how he felt about that.

The smile he now offered her seemed almost tight, hesitant.

 _I just made a fool of myself!_ Emily silently lamented her impulsive attempt at a flirt.

She now focused her attention to the trail ahead. Her body had heated up several degrees, it could have just been from the sun. But Emily knew what the real reason was. She had tried to change tracks with him, maybe up it a little bit, but he didn't seem interested.

 _Since when has talking to men been so hard?_

A pang of pain shot through her all of a sudden. She pressed her hand to her side, putting pressure on the injury in attempt to ease the hurting.

It really was a cruel thing. It seemed that whenever she was with the trail boss, her wound was determined to remind her of it's presence. This time was worse than usual, though. After several moments of gritting her teeth, she finally decided she had better check on it. Easing her shirt up, she looked over her bandage. A spot of red about the size of a bean showed against the white cloth.

"Hey, you alright?" Gil noticed her checking her side, and saw the red blotch. The previous episode was forgotten.

"No, I think it'll be fine..." _I'm just glad it don't hurt as much as my pride does,_ she thought grimly.

Gil watched, not quiet convinced. The red spot slowly grew, though it wasn't too bad.

"Are you... sure?"

"Ah, yeah, I just..." she started looking around, as if searching of something.

Two lines formed as Gil's eyebrows scrunched toward each other. _W_ _hat was she looking for?_ His eyes followed her gaze when she seemed to have found it, until they fell upon the approaching young man.

Rowdy was already galloping up towards them.

 _Has he been stalking us this whole time?_

"Are you alright?" the ramrod asked, slowing to keep pace beside her.

"Yeah, it's just bleedin' out a little bit," Emily replied, with what Gil thought sounded like relief.

Rowdy looked down at the bloodied wrap, examining it for several moments. But his eyes soon travelled up to Gil's.

"Hey, boss... maybe I should keep her company..."

 _Instead of you,_ Gil finished Rowdy's sentence in his head. He didn't really appreciate the uninvited presence of the ramrod, nor the suggestion of taking over with the girl.

Rowdy had been hesitant to even ask, knowing the boss as well as he did. But for a reason he didn't quiet understand, he just had to.

Gil's first, most obvious thought was to flat out tell him no. He could, after all, take care of a girl just as well as the younger man, if not better. But something stopped him from it.

Wishbone had a told Gil about his theory. When the girl had been unconscious and suffered from whatever it was that caused her spells, it was Rowdy alone who could calm her. The trail boss had been skeptical at first. But as he continued observing, it became easier to consider it a possibility. Maybe it was true, she had some sort of connection to the boy.

Gil looked at Emily, who had not protested Rowdy's suggestion.

"Alright. I gotta go check on Pete, anyway," he finally answered, though he didn't sound particularly pleased.

His hesitation gave Emily some hope. He enjoyed her company. That was the first step, right?

She reached out and nudged his shoulder, offering him a small smile. "I'll have a hot cup of coffee waiting for you when you get back."

Gil felt himself lighten a bit. But with the girl smiling up at him, it wasn't long before he finally caved in and returned it. "I'll be countin' on it."

He gave the two a nod, before he sent his horse ahead.

The girl weighed on his mind as he made his way over the next hill. He was having a hard time deciding on things regarding her. He found that he was allowing things that he normally would never let happen. Keeping the herd going slow just so that they could keep her for a few extra days, allowing her to sleep on the ground instead of in the wagon... And then there was the way he felt when she compared him to her father. He couldn't decide if he had felt proud or disappointed. Could both be even possible at the same time?

He shook his head. There was one thing he couldn't help but be sure of, though. Despite what had been said back at camp about her "being one of the boys", there wasn't anybody in the camp fooled. He would go along with it and call her Carter, but there was no mistaking her for a boy.

He would just have to do some hard thinking, and right now, without the girl around to distract him, was the best time.

* * *

"Then he says, 'well maybe I'd should be ramrod', so I said, 'If you shoulda been ramrod, Mr. Favor woulda made you ramrod'. So then he starts shootin' his mouth of about - "

Emily was listening intently to Rowdy's account of how some cocky drover had tried to 'walk all over him'. He had spent the past hour or so offloading all kinds of stories about messes he had been in, while she sat and soaked it up. And she was perfectly fine by that. Liked it that way, actually.

" - so finally Mr. favor sent him packin' like a dog," he concluded, a smile that showed satisfaction at the memory glowing on his lips,"but not before I taught him a thing or two. Maybe now he'll think twice 'fore he goes pullin' guns."

She finally came to a conclusion about all these things he had been telling her: Either he was the biggest liar this side of the Mississippi, or he was some kind of trouble magnet. Rowdy didn't strike her as a liar. He did, however, remind her of a person she once knew very well who never could seem to stay out of trouble.

Emily smirked, shaking her head. "Rowdy, will you take some advice from me?"

He looked over at her, his grin growing. "What's that?"

"Never become a bounty hunter."

He scoffed. "A bottom feeder? That's not for me," he assured her.

Emily huffed, unconvinced. "Heard that before," she said distastefully.

Rowdy tilted his head, curiosity kindling inside him. "You wanna tell me?"

Emily turned, only to eye him up and down critically. Rowdy shifted in his saddle slightly.

"Yeah, I'll tell ya." Her reply lacked the playfulness that had previously been present in her voice.

There was a pause as she gathered her thoughts and words. Rowdy waited patiently. She looked upset, even contemptuous at whatever it was that was going through that pretty little mind of hers. But then Rowdy started to notice her eyes softening into the distance.  
When she finally turned back to him, there was a sadness in her face. Sadness and something else he couldn't quiet place.

"I guess I'd have to start way back when I was little," she started, her voice now soft, tender. "Growing up, there were only two other ranches nearby. S'only natural that I'd be best friends with the kids that lived in 'em. Sam Cassidy and Logan McArthur."

Emily took a moment to smile at the two significant names, and Rowdy could feel the love that radiated from her. He gave a small nod. She had mentioned Luke last night when they were talking.

"Logan was a few years older 'n me, but that never made any difference. Never minded that I was a girl, neither. His daddy, an old buddy 'o my daddy's, died when he was still little. His momma couldn't bear to leave his father's dream behind, but we were there to help 'em out. He couldn'ta been more that fourteen when he started drovin' with daddy. And he was good. He made ramrod after the third drive, 'though I think there might'a been a little bias on daddy's part."

Rowdy listened quietly. She smiled slightly at that last part, but a longing to fierce filled her eyes that it almost pained Rowdy to look at her. He already knew this story didn't end well.

"The last drive he went on with us was about a year ago, he just happened to run across a man that was trying to rustle a few of our steers. Logan brought him into town, turned out the guy had a bit of cash on his head."

It was at this point that Emily's eyes fell, and she let out heavy breath.

"Logan... he'd wanted to marry this... _girl_." The way she had drawled out the last word gave Rowdy the feeling that Emily was not exactly pleased with the boy's choice in women.

"She wouldn't marry anyone who didn't have... a certain amount of money. Apparently a person is only worth the amount of money he has. I told him she wasn't any good, but he just couldn't get over her. He knew the stories, and we'd always told him that bounty huntin' was no way to live. But after they handed him that money, I guess he just suddenly realized that he could make money hunting down men a lot quicker than he could pushing cattle..."

Her voice drifted off as she became lost in the memory. There was a long, heavy quietness, but Rowdy realized that the silence was not between him and her. Because she wasn't really there beside him right now. She was off in a place far from the present.

"I guess things didn't go the way he had planned," Rowdy finally said softly.

Though the words had been quiet, they were enough to bring Emily back into awareness. She sighed, shaking her head.

"He was good at everything he ever set foot to doing. Raised right 'round 3 thousand in the first five months, working day and night. Wore him out." She straightened slightly in her saddle, anger now subduing her features. "That should have been enough for her, but it wasn't. She threatened to get married to some banker's son if he didn't come up with at least seven thousand by her 17th birthday. Four thousand in three months. Logan got desperate, but I didn't know just how desperate." Emily's knuckles whitened as she clutched the reins of her paint. Her normally dark complexion had paled slightly from the intensity of her growing rage. "If I woulda known what he was going to do, I would've tied him up, or hit him over the head, or - or shot him in the leg or something," her voice raised now, causing her horse's ears turned back towards it's rider. "He went out of his league, chasing after the big outlaws."

A pause.

"We didn't even have a body to bury, Rowdy," her voice returned as little more than a bitter whisper. Neither of them noticed that she had used his first name instead of the usual Mr. Yates. Both of them were intent on the story being told. "All they sent us was..." she pressed her lips together, trying to keep herself together before she went on,"was the arm that he'd scarred on the first drive, to identify him."

Silence settled between them. She sat in mournful reflection, fighting off tears, while Rowdy rode in grim contemplation.

The time dragged on in which neither of them spoke. It was not until hours had passed that the herd approached a small stream. The story of Emily's unfortunate friend was still what occupied both of their thoughts. When Rowdy veered away from the herd to follow up the stream, Emily made no comment and kept her place beside him. When he stopped, she followed suit, and when he dismounted she did so as well. Rowdy took down his canteen to refill it, and their two horses drank from the clear trickle. Emily simply stood beside the young man and stared blankly at the brook.

"Did you love him?" Rowdy finally spoke quietly just one of the many questions that had been plaguing his thoughts.

Emily slowly brought her brown eyes to meet his green ones, gazing up at her from where he squatted.

Her eyes softened. "Like a brother."

The ramrod nodded slightly. His canteen filled, he twisted the cap of it back on and stood up, his eyes still gazing at the lovely face in front of him.

"I guess you're wondering what all this has to do with you." Emily broke the gaze and turned away from him, looking off toward the line of cattle that was making it's way northward. She shook her head, exhaling sharply. "It's just that... I watch you tendin' to the cattle, I hear you talkin', see you givin' the men a hard time and losin' your temper and..." her voice faltered, and though he couldn't see her face he saw her hand go up to hold her forehead. "...And God, you're just like him, Rowdy."

The young man didn't have to see her to know that she was crying now. There were no whimpers, no sobs. No sounds at all came from the girl. But Rowdy knew.

He'd had no idea that she had felt so strongly about him. In a serious sort of way, he felt proud of it. But he also knew that with the loss of her friend, and now her family, she was probably having a hard time looking at anything that didn't trigger a memory of some sort. Her feelings for him might be a passing faze.

But she was a sweet girl, and he couldn't help but feel the need to do the best he could to help her in any way he could.

His feet brought him up closer behind her. He hesitated at first, but finally reached up to place a light hand on her shoulder. She didn't tense.

"Emily," for the first time he spoke her given name softly, though he didn't know what to say after that.

But that one word was enough, and then Emily was silently crying on his dusty chest. He held her tenderly while she let loose tears that made wet blots on his shirt. His thumb absently stroked her back, similar to the way he had done when he held her hand while she was unconscious.

Neither of them noticed how long they stayed like this. When she finally did pull away from him, the tears had stopped. Her eyes were no longer red from crying, but her cheeks were lightly flushed.

"Sorry... I sorta got your shirt wet," she wiped at the damp spots on his shirt.

Rowdy shook his head, rendering the girl a small smile. "You can wet my shirt any time."

This brightened her features, and it made him feel taller than a Georgia pine.

"I guess we should get back to the herd," Emily said, her eyes turning back to the moving cattle that had gotten ahead of them. "That is, if you think that ol' nag of yours'll make it."

Rowdy looked at his mount as if to say, _Are you talking about_ _ **my**_ _horse?_

"Is that a challenge?"

"Only if you really want to bite some dust, drover," Emily replied smugly.

"We'll see who bites dust!"

This immediately triggered a wild scramble as both of them clambered onto their horses.

"Ha! Slowpoke!"

Hooves beat the ground as two young riders flew over the grass, past the drag riders, one flanking the other.

"That boy," one of the cattlemen shook his head.

What they saw when they looked at the two was the girl-crazy young ramrod and his latest love.

What Emily saw when she looked at Rowdy was someone who she had only met days ago, but couldn't help but love like her own flesh and blood. Rowdy knew this now.

So when he looked at Emily, he saw a beautiful girl who he felt very strongly about. It was a good feeling, but as to exactly _what_ the feeling was... Well, he still had some figuring out to do.

For now, though, he was focused on winning the race.

* * *

 **Thanks to y'all who reviewed, I'm glad y'all like it so far. I hope to hear about what y'all think about how this is developing as a story, and how the relationships of the characters are developing.  
**

 **Cheers!**


	4. Chapter 4

That _Mushy_.

Rowdy glared at the cook's louse from across the camp, gripping his mug of coffee like he was trying to strangle it.

He knew that he shouldn't be acting like this, or even feel like this for that matter. He had made up his mind, or at least attempted to make up his mind, that he was going to live up to the brother-figure that he now knew Emily saw him as. That meant no flirting, no thoughts of how pretty her face was, or how cute her little accent was... and sure as heck no thoughts of how warm and perfect she had felt when he had held her.

Yup, he was doomed to failure. He'd already done all of those things within the last half-hour. And now here he was, envying _that_ _Mushy_ while Emily laughed at something _that Mushy_ said as they put away Wishbone's cooking things.

 _Ooh, that Mushy!_

"Rowdy..."

The ramrod jumped slightly at the sound of Pete's voice. The scout was looking warily at the younger man, his spoon halfway up to his mouth, having just suddenly noticed the fired-up expression on the ramrod's face.

Pete studied the now flushing boy. He slowly brought the spoon up to his lips, chewing and swallowing before finally asking the question that he knew he didn't really need to ask.

"Are you alright?" Pete glanced over at Mushy, who looked as innocent and ignorant as always, then back to Rowdy.

Rowdy pressed his lips together into a tight frown and shifted around slightly, the way he always did when there was something bothering him.

"Yeah, I'm fine," he said casually, looking away up towards the tree tops.

Pete wasn't convinced that there was actually something up there that interested the young man.

Rowdy heard the sound of metal against metal as the scout scooped up another spoonful of oatmeal.

"You know... I really don't think that you gotta worry 'bout Mushy proposin' or anything."

Rowdy's eyes snapped to the older man. He was infuriated to find that Pete looked as if he were trying hard to hold back a grin. The ramrod stood up, the look in his face testifying to his anger.

"You think that's real cute, don't ya, Pete," he said, his voice low and hot, before he slammed his plate down and stalked off toward the remuda.

"Rowdy," Pete set his own plate aside and got to his feet, following after the boy.

Rowdy ignored him as he walked down the line of horses.

"Hey."

He still refused to acknowledge the scout as he found his horse and started checking over it's saddle.

"Rowdy," his name was spoken again, but now also felt a hand placed on his shoulder. Rowdy jerked his shoulder away and pulled himself up onto the horse's back.

"Rowdy." This time Pete used a stern voice that demanded attention, dropping the patient tone he had been using earlier.

Rowdy tried to send his horse forward, but the scout grabbed the animal's halter and prevented it from going anywhere. Rowdy let out a breath through clinched teeth. He refused to look at Pete, instead turning his irritation-filled eyes off to the side somewhere, his jaw set.

"Listen to me, boy,"Pete was no-nonsense now as he looked straight up at the ramrod," I'm going to tell you something that you aren't gonna want to hear, but you better listen good anyhow."

Rowdy let out a grudging huff, rolling his eyes before resentfully turning to face the offending party.

"Now I just want you to know that you can't make her love you, and if she loves Mushy, nothin' you do'll make her stop. She's a young lady, and a mighty fine one at that; she's the only one who can make up her mind who she wants. For all you know, she might be lookin' to settle down, and I don't think you're quiet ready for that." Pete settled down now, seeing that Rowdy was, though begrudgingly, seeming to take in the words. The scout took a breath, going on more gently. "Now, I'm a man too, you know, and I can see why you like her just as easy as anyone else here can. But don't push yourself on her, and don't hold her back from getting' to know the other men. You have to be fair to her, too."

Pete watched the younger man's face carefully. Rowdy lowered his eyes and let out a breath, but Pete could see the downcast acceptance in his features.

"Look," Pete tried to reason with the boy without making him feel worse,"just give her some space and see what happens. I didn't say to give her up altogether."

A brief silence.

"Alright, Pete." The crestfallen boy finally spoke, nodding his head slightly, then nudged his horse forward into a walk.

Pete hated to see him like that. Rowdy could be childish, hot-tempered and impulsive. Even down-right annoying sometimes. But this just wasn't natural.

"If it means anything, all the boys think you've been hittin' it off with her more than your fair share."

Rowdy turned to look back at Pete, having barely caught the words. Pete was only trying to help, the ramrod understood that now. And it did help, in some way. They exchanged respectful nods, then ramrod trotted out to the herd and scout returned to camp.

"Where's Rowdy?" a familiar low voice greeted him.

Pete glanced over to see the boss in front of a tiny mirror, finishing up a shave.

Pete was surprised that he could have gotten it done so quickly, it hadn't seemed like he and Rowdy had left too long ago.

But he simply smiled, shaking his head. "I had to pull him off of Mushy."

Gil paused mid-stroke and looked back at Pete. "What?" His voice had come out sharper than he had intended, but he was more than a little surprised. He knew that Rowdy had been upset upset with Mushy, but riding the boy and beating up on him where two totally different things.

"Oh, no, not like that," Pete quickly said, leaning against a tree and sticking his thumbs in his pockets. "See, he _was_ givin' the boy a good lickin', but only in his mind. I just had a little talk with him to straighten some things out."

Gil snorted, returning to his mirror. "I could use some straightening out myself," he muttered to himself.

The sound of blade scraping against skin resumed.

"Yeah, I guess she has us all thinkin' about what it could be like,"Pete said reflectively, rubbing his own chin.

Though he didn't make any outward give-aways, the scout's words startled Gil. He hadn't realized he'd said that loud enough for Pete to hear. But then it hit him that his friend had said exactly what Gil had been struggling, but repeatedly unable to put into words.

"She don't seem to be getting' to you as much as some," Gil replied evenly.

Pete tilted his head. "Anyone in particular ya mean by 'some'?"

He wasn't surprised when he didn't get a straight answer. Or any answer at all, for that matter. He had sensed the upset in the boss's presence when he had come up and rode ahead with him yesterday. Mr. Favor had made several remarks about Rowdy following the girl around like a puppy. But it was what he had left unsaid that Pete had heard loudest.

"Did you scout ahead like I told you?" was what Gil _did_ finally say after a pause.

"Course, you saw me." Pete didn't miss a beat at the sudden change in subject.

"Do it again."

That, on the other hand, may have thrown him off a bit. "Boss?" Pete wasn't quiet sure he'd heard right.

Gil wiped the excess shaving cream off his face and got up, placing his hat on his head. "And take the girl with you."

He held gazes with the scout for several moments. An agreement, though silent, was made, then they both went their separate ways. Gil followed the tracks Rowdy had made, while Pete took his hat off and headed for the place where Emily was talking with Mushy and several of the other men about...

Pete stepped closer to the small group until he could make out what they were talking about.

"Why, that's the most r'diculous notion I ever heard!" Wishbone scoffed loudly, eyeing the girl like she might have some contagious disease.

"Well, I think it might be good for him," Emily declared firmly. She turned pointedly to Joe and Jim,"Don't y'all agree?"

"Oh yeah!"

"Mm-hmm."

They both nodded vigorously.

Mushy simply stood and watched, looking like he was only partially aware of what was going on.

"Bah!" Wishbone let out another scoff and waved the two men off,"If Mushy can grow a decent beard, I can sprout wings 'n fly."

"I think he'd look nice," Emily insisted, then turning back to Jim and Joe,"Wouldn't he look nice, boys?"

"Oh, yeah!"

"Mm-hmm."

"Is he even old enough to grow a beard?" Teddy scrutinized the cook's louse, looking both jeering and doubtful.

Emily paused her squabbling with Wishbone, finding the lack of agree-ability in Teddy's voice greatly disturbing. She looked to Teddy, then to Mushy, then back to Teddy.

"Well, I guess. He looks about as old as you do..."she said innocently.

The two older drovers broke into heavy laughter, slapping the now sulking young man on the back.

Pete smirked and came to stand behind Wishbone, who was putting the fire out now.

Wishbone shook his head. "Have you every heard sech a r'diculous idea?" the cook grumbled.

"Well, I don't know," Pete said amiably,"If he _could_ manage to grow a decent beard, maybe it would be good for 'em. It'd at least make him look a bit more... mature."

Wishbone scowled. "Well he can do whatever he wants, I don't care."

"Who knows, if he let's it grow out long 'nough, he start lookin' like he's your son..."

"Get out, get out!" Wishbone slapped the sniggering scout away from him with a dish towel.

"It was just a joke, Wish!" Pete didn't stop laughing as staggered away from the ill-tempered cook, reaching back a hand to block the assaults of the wet towel.

Fortunately the old man didn't choose to pursue him very far, and went back to his business grumbling.

"You got a nice mustache, Jimbo, maybe you could give these boys some pointers,"Emily was saying, a playful look in her eyes.  
The drover laughed, looking over at the other men. "Well, now, Carty! I'll certainly try. No promises, though. Some men were just meant to shave."

Pete couldn't help but notice that the pair had both come up with nicknames for each other. And cutesy ones, at that.

"If anyone can help 'em, it's you," Emily gave Jim a smirk. "Now you boys better get, afore the boss comes back with a bullwhip fer you slackers." She pat Teddy on the shoulder warmly, which proved to lighten the boy's hurt a bit from the reproach that she had given him earlier.

"Yes, ma'am!" Joe replied brightly.

Emily turned raised an eyebrow.

"Er, uh, Carter," Joe said quickly, before they tipped their hats and hurried off for the remuda.

Emily smiled in their wake. _Nothin' like a man to make a girl feel important._

She stepped over to the table and poured a mug of coffee. She then offered it to Pete, who had almost thought that he had went unnoticed by the girl.

He smiled, and stepped closer to take the cup, giving her a nod of thanks.

"Shouldn't you be out there, too, Mr. Nolan?" Emily asked, starting to clear away the things on the table.

"Should," he nodded,"But boss thinks I need some company."

Emily paused, tilting her head as she looked up at the tall man. "And so you're here to pick Mushy up?" she asked mildly.

 _This girl's full of it!_

Pete smirked down at the girl, before replying in an equally mild tone,"Maybe."

A full-on grin spread over Emily's face. "Hey, Mushy, ya busy?" she called.

The cook and his louse bustled on the other side of the wagon.

"Wull, yeah I'm - "

"'Course he's busy!" Wishbone spat, not bothering to let the boy answer for himself.

Of course both Emily and Pete had known the answer to the question beforehand.

Emily shrugged, still smiling. "Well, Mr. Nolan, I'm 'fraid he's preoccupied. Think I could fill his boots?"

Pete set his hat back on his head. "I guess you'll have to do," he replied in mock-disappointment.

* * *

Emily had always loved riding through the country, something her and Pete had in common. Though Gil had shared many a pleasant conversation with Emily in the past few days, she could tell that Pete was naturally more talkative. Not talkative like Rowdy, but talkative in a calmer, more settled way. And the more they talked, the more they both realized that they had a lot in common.

Emily hadn't talked much about Indians. Pete had figured that maybe it hurt to talk about it, so he hadn't pushed it. He was delighted when she was the one who opened the subject up.

"Jimmy tells me you're quiet the Indian pro-fessional."

They were making their way ahead of the herd, not in very much of a hurry. Pete glanced over at her. She looked quiet comfortable, like a fish in it's element as she enjoyed the view of the familiar scenery.

"I've spent some good years with 'em. They're nice people, the peaceful ones anyway. Can't say I'm very impressed with all of their customs, but then I can't say I'm too happy with everythin' the white man does, either."

A soft smile appeared on Emily's lips.

 _Understanding._

"I guess we're just caught up between two conflicting worlds, huh?"

It was refreshing to be able to talk to a person who actually knew what he was talking about. He had always enjoyed telling the boys about the ways of the natives. Likewise, he had loved telling the Cheyenne about the lives of the white men, and all the wonderful places that they had never seen. But neither pale face nor red skin could understand to him the way she did. With her it wasn't just him talking, it was both of them sharing something that the other could relate to.

"So'd you ever consider goin' back to 'em?"

"Who, the Indians?" Emily nearly laughed at the question. "Naw, I'm no Indian. Not really, anyway." She looked at the man riding beside her, giving him a nod. "I guess I'm more like you than anyone else I ever met. Just a southerner who happens to have ties with 'em."

It seemed that everything about this girl inspired intrigue. It didn't matter who it was, she had something to strike up interest for everyone.

"I guess you're wondering why I don't go back to them now, though, with my parents dead 'n all."

Pete raised an eyebrow. "Well... It does seem like a mighty hard thing for a girl to be all alone."

Her situation was known throughout the camp, as she had not been overly secretive about it. At least on the surface she hadn't seemed to be.

"Well, I guess _technically_ I'm not alone," she replied, though not sounding very excited about the fact. "I have a step-grandmother back in Boston, and some... cousins, I guess is what they'd be, from her side." She huffed. "But I never heard much about 'em, and what I did hear didn't 'rouse any longin' to have a family reunion."

Pete nodded slowly. He didn't want to press her into telling him anything, even though the curiosity was ebbing at him.

Emily must have sensed this, because much to his surprise she turned to him and addressed it.

"You can ask anything you want, ya know," she said lightly, but with frankness,"The worse I'll do is tell ya it's none of your business."

Pete laughed. "Is it that obvious?"

Emily shook her head. "Are you forgetting, Mr. Nolan?" she was smirking as she spoke,"You're a drover with Indian expertise, and I'm a part Indian with drover expertise."

"Is that how you managed to get on to get on nick-name terms with Jim?" Pete raised an accusing, but playful eyebrow.

"Jim-bobby's real friendly," Emily grinned.

"Seems like all the boy's are right friendly when you're around."

"Real gentlemen!"

"And you seem right comfortable with 'em."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"A bunch of practically strange men?"

"Drovers aren't strange."

A pause.

"Maybe you're the strange one,"Pete finally concluded.

"That's probably so."

Pete eyed her. "You know, you're a real piece of work, miss Carter."

" _Just Carter_." Emily replied in a sing-song voice. She seemed to be enjoying this ramble they were sharing.

Pete was quiet for several moments. "I just can't seem to do it."

Emily turned to him curiously. "Do what?"

"Drop the 'miss'. 'Carter', alone... it just don't sound right, not for you."

The dark haired girl pursed her lips as she considered this. "Just Emily, then."

Two lines creased Pete face as his eyebrows furrowed together. "I don't know..."

"Well, why not?"

"Hmm..." Pete thought for a moment. It just seemed so... personal. He wasn't altogether sure if it was a good idea to get personal with this one. Something about her was so drawing, and that was dangerous under the circumstances. She would be gone in a few weeks, and he didn't look forward to an emotional hangover like he knew most of the crew were going to feel when they started having "miss Carter" withdrawal. But could something as little as this really hurt?

"Only if you call me Pete," he finally spoke against his better judgement.

"Peter it is,"Emily replied triumphantly.

The scout nearly jumped at his full first name, and looked at her with wide eyes. Nobody called him that except his mother, and that's the way he wanted to keep it.

"Just _Pete_ is fine," he said slowly, pointedly.

"Yeah,Peter. That's what I said," she replied casually.

Okay, now she was intentionally pushing his buttons. Well, he wasn't going to give into it. He just hoped she didn't keep it up when the other's where around.

"Alright, _Emily_ ,"Pete decided it would just be best to get back on the track they had been going down before. Now that she had given him the permission, he would go ahead and ask his questions. "So do you mind if I ask you about your family story."

"You mean about why I don't like my yankee steps?" Emily clarified.

"Well, ah, yeah, that's one way to put it." Her forwardness continued to amaze and amuse the scout.

Emily nodded. "Well see, my grand-pappy owned a cattle ranch down in Texas, way back afore I was around. Daddy grew up there, workin' cattle and such. But when grandma died, he eventually ended up marryin' this eastern widow. Daddy'd been an only child, but Francine – that's the yankee woman's name, isn't it horrible? - she had two girls, real brats from the stories I heard. So they didn't like all this dirt 'n animals, and lack of shoppin' places. And they moaned and bellowed 'bout it until grand-pappy finally bought a house out in Boston for 'em and shipped 'em off."

 _Well, that sounds like a mess!_ "They didn't want a divorce?"

"You'd think. They never really loved each other, and dad and her girls never got along. But she needed the money and grand-pap... I don't know what his reasoning was." She shook her head, the corner of her mouth turning down. "They spent more money then he made. _That_ is a lot of money. He eventually went into debt paying off _their_ debt. Lost the ranch. I sometimes wonder if he didn't die of shame."

Pete shook his head. "What'd your daddy do?"

"Well, he took... odd jobs, here 'n there. He'd done a good job saving up his money, so when he finally got tired of working he headed up here. 'Course Francine pestered him when she'd found out he still had money, but he didn't pay her any attention. He met mom on the way here, got married, and... well, I guess the rest you pretty much know."

The scout shook his head. "Well. I... guess I can't really blame you for not wantin' to go to Boston."

"What about you?" Emily asked as they scaled another rounded hill,"You got any family?"

Pete smiled, letting out a sigh. "Well, my ma 'n pa live back down in Texas, and I got four brothers wondering around somewhere in the country."

He realized that he'd never talked about his family to any of the men before. It just wasn't something they much did, maybe for fear of getting homesick out here, in the middle of nowhere when they started thinking about where they came from.

But... it was nice. Or maybe she just made it seem nice somehow.

"No wife?" Emily looked at him curiously,"You seem like the marryin' type."

It took Pete several moments to gather the right reply for the unexpected question, so startled he was.

"Do I?"he just had to ask before he could even think about saying anything else.

"Sure. You and Mr. Favor, maybe Je`sus and one or two others." Emily was unfazed. "Drovers and marryin' don't usually go together, but I think some men were just meant to be married."

"Like your dad?"

Emily smiled, inclining her head in a single nod.

There was a quiet as Pete thought on what she said.

"Well I... _was_ married, once. And - " Pete's eyes found Emily's as he spoke slowly," - to an Indian."

A match seemed to light up in Emily's eyes as the pieces started fitting together. "Seems fittin'."

Pete tilted his head. "Yeah, I guess so. She was the chief's daughter. I'd brought guns to their tribe, showed 'em how to use 'em. That was back when I was young and still trying to figure out what I wanted to do with myself." He smiled and shrugged. "They let me live with them. When she died, though... It was hard to stay, I just couldn't. So I said my good-bye's and left."

Emily shook her head. "That's too bad."

Another pause followed.

"She didn't have a sister?"

Pete let out a bark of laughter. "Well, like you said. I'm no Indian."

* * *

 **Shout-outs:**

 **Caro: I'm glad you like it! I have been trying to update every week, and am a chapter or two ahead of what I have posted on here. It's hard for me not to just upload everything I have, but I do try to contain myself.**

 **Kayley: Yes, I just love how complicated everything is. None of the guys know what's going through her head, and so they get all confused about how she feels and how they feel and how the others feel, and have all kinds of misunderstandings... But don't worry, it'll get messier!**

 **And thanks to everyone else who read!**

 **Until next time,**

 **~ TheNightRunner**


	5. Chapter 5

**Warnings: The use of mild language.**

* * *

Tension hung heavy in the air. The men sat in stiff silence, their eyes shifting around as the fire crackled. Normally, some of them would be gathered around and playing poker. Gil would be relaxing by the fire, Pete would either be looking over some maps or maybe playing his guitar. Clay Forester would be telling some smoothly spoken tale that may or may not have some truth to it. Wish would be messing with his cooking things or lecturing Mushy, and the rest of the men would probably be chatting or dosing off.

But not tonight.

Gil didn't think he had ever felt to much anxiety looming over a camp in his whole life. One would have thought they had just buried the last girl in the whole world.

He snorted. That's what it was always about, wasn't it? Girls.

It had been earlier that evening when Pete and Emily had come back. The pair had just reached the herd when a flock of birds flew over.

"Hey, boys! Ho - " Emily hadn't finished her sentence when a birdy let off a nice big load that landed smack on her right shoulder.

"Aw, shit." Emily's mouth slipped in disgust before her mind even had time to turn on her filter, as she stared down at the wet dump on her shoulder.

The men stared, wide eyed, before a wild burst of laughter exploded from them. They just about laughed themselves off their horses while Emily contemplated what she should do. She didn't mind the laughing half as much as she minded the wet heap.

Of course the look on Wishbone's face when he saw it was just as priceless.

"Well... I'll go pour ya a bath," he'd said, staring at the distasteful stain that had done a nice job of splattering onto the side of her neck.

And so here he was, pouring the final pot of hot water into the tub.

"There, that aught to do it," he said," Just hand your shirt out and I'll wash the shoulder out for ya."

"Thanks, Wish."

The curtain of the supply wagon closed, and in a few moments a tanned, slander arm was handing the shirt out.

 _This is utterly and unbelievably ridiculous._

That was Gil's thought as the men stared at the wagon like a million dollars worth in gold was stored in it. Rowdy, Clay, and Teddy seemed particularly engrossed. They seemed to tense more when they heard the sound of moving water come from inside it.

No, this just wouldn't do.

The trail boss cleared his throat. "Pete, ah... Why don't you play us something?"

The scout was the only solitary drover in the whole crew with his back to the wagon, fiddling around absently with what Gil guessed was a map. But the miserable look on his face was clearly one of a guilty puppy.

 _Probably the only irreproachable drover here, and the only one looking guilty._ Gil would have liked to roll his eyes. _Figures._

But Pete revived a bit at the request. "Sure thing, boss."

He went and retrieved his guitar and started plucking Dixie, nice and slow. The melody seemed to ease the men, maybe even partially take their minds off of the girl.

"Oh I wish that I was in the land of cotton..."

Pete's low, smooth voice rang throughout the camp. His singing voice was, by far, the best out of all the crew, with Rowdy and Gil trailing behind at a fair distance. But neither ramrod nor trail boss were truly musical in the sense that Pete was. Music had it's own little place in his life.

That was why everyone had always liked listening to him sing, because it wasn't just words and notes coming out of his mouth, it was melody and emotion flowing from and through him.

"I wish I was in Dixie..."

But as beautiful as it was, something seemed to shift and change. Like a flower blooming. It was hard to tell what it was at first, until they heard the second voice, flowing and sweet, slowly growing louder as the song went on. It seemed to entwine itself with Pete's voice, creating a harmony that could softened the most hardened outlaw.

"In Dixie land where I was born in, early on a frosty mornin'..."

Nobody, not even Pete himself, noticed when he had stopped singing or playing. It had just sort of faded to a stop as they all strained to hear the soft, feminine voice.

But soon that, too, stopped. A gun barrel poked out from the wagon's canvas, followed by a small portion of Emily's face.

"Is everything alright out here?"

Gil suddenly realized that he had been staring right along with those infatuated men of his.

"Oh, ah, yeah!" he quickly said, the men making themselves look busy," We just - "

Rowdy quickly tried to help, " - thought we heard a - "

" - bugle!" Mushy finished.  
Everyone turned and looked at the boy, the drovers in frozen suspense, and Emily with an off-guard surprise. Gil could have killed him.

"A... _bugle_?" she repeated, unsure she had heard right.

Rowdy let out a small, uncomfortable laugh. "A bugle..."

"Ah, yeah," said the trail boss in a decidedly Gil-like tone.

Fortunately, Pete started playing again, which had a positive effect on the camp.

 _Good ol' Pete._

An assessing expression briefly passed over Emily's face, but it look like she soon decided to accept the explanation. "Alright. Well, if there's any trouble, just whistle for me." And with that, she disappeared again.

Gil's eyes swept over the drovers, giving them a good glare-down.

 _One more time_ , he mouthed.

They didn't know what would happen if that 'one more time' was taken up, but they knew they didn't want to find out. And so they quickly busied themselves with that they should have been doing in the first place.

Jim pulled out a deck of cards. "Anyone up fer some friendly poker?"

And a game was soon dealt out.

"Say, did I ever tell you fella's about that time I had back in Cave City?" Clay said.

And another story was born.

"Mushy, you idiot!" Wishbone hissed,"Where'd you put my sewing kit?"

And everything was normal again.

Pete's voice once again sang forth, strong and settling, soon accompanied by that soft, sweet voice once more.

And everything was good again.

This time, if the men did notice her voice, they didn't let their chatter die down. Pete seemed finally at ease; it had been a long time since he'd had someone to sing with. When the cows lowed from where they were bedded down, it was a sound of contentment.

Gil shook his head, but he was smiling. It seemed like he'd been doing a lot of that lately.

She looked like and angel, moved like an angel, only figured that she had a voice like one, too. Come a few weeks, he didn't know if he would be glad to finally have his men back under belt, or sorry that she was gone.

* * *

Sheep. Cattle.

Those two words should never be used in the same sentence around most people. Otherwise, you just might have a fight on your hands.

Emily had always wondered why the cattlemen and shepherds couldn't just get along and work things out. That should be pretty simple, right? But then, Emily had decided a long time ago not to fight against nature.

Nature.

It's not just trees and grass, mountains and creeks. Nature isn't _just_ a thing, though it is that too.

 _Some things simply resist change. That's really what nature is._

That was something her father had once said. An animal is predictable because of their nature. Seasons can be depended upon to come and go, because it is a part of nature. Some men have a hard time changing ways and habits, because those things are etched into their nature.

Some things you can simply trust will happen.

That's why when the herd suddenly came across a flock of sheep while passing through a valley, Emily wasn't shocked by the change in behaviour in the thus-far easy-enough-to-get-along-with men.

"Stop the herd!" Gil barked the instant the cotton-covered little animals came into view.

Emily tried to speak. "Mr. Favo - "

"Not now," he cut her off, immediately sending his horse forward toward the flock of sheep with Pete in tow.

Emily pressed her lips together, but soon followed the two.

"I thought you scouted ahead!" Gil growled at the scout.

"They weren't here then," Pete replied firmly,"Don't you think I would've told you?"

The trail boss let out a frustrated breath. He hated when he got snappy with the men. He hated how the men he got the most snappy with where usually the ones closest to him. But sometimes when he was chafed, he just had to snap at someone.

"Alright, alright," he finally said.

It wasn't exactly an apology, but Pete understood the implication and accepted it as if it were one, just as he always did. He might never know just how much that always meant to Gil.

"Let me talk to him." Emily's voice came from behind them. Between the bellowing of cattle and bleating of sheep, they hadn't really noticed the sound of her horse's hooves behind them.

"I said not now," Gil tried not to sound too sore, but sheep always put him on edge. Anything that might effect his herd always put him on edge. "Look, we'll take care of this. Why don't you just go back and help Rowdy."

Pete stole an accusing glance at the trail boss. Had he just tried to bribe her with... Rowdy? Like she was a school-girl and he was the town heart-throb? Gil returned Pete's look with a look.

 _I don't always like it, but I do what I think I have to._

Emily didn't pick up on this, though, and simply chose to ignore them. She was soon riding along with them on the other side of Pete.  
The corner of Gil's mouth curved down into that tight frown that the men were so well acquainted with.

 _Rowdy must have sent her along to be salty for him._

And so they made their way to the chuck wagon at the middle of the flock. Several dogs ran around, keeping the sheep close to the wagon. They all had the same build and general look, but one was slate blue while the two others were a foxy red. They barked at the arrival, which brought a head poking out of the wagon.

The single shepherd looked to be in his mid-forties, with dark tanned skin, a well-groomed beard, and a thick mop of black hair that hadn't seen a clipping in a good while. He squinted at the three, eyeing them over best as he could.

"'Ey, who goes theh?" he called out to them with a thick foreign accent.

Gil glanced over at Pete.

"We're cattle drovers, we got a herd about half a mile behind you," Gil's booming voice soon replied. "You gonna let us pass through?"

He wasn't exactly polite, but it could have been worse.

The man leaned a bit closer, still squinting hard at them. "Don' b'lieve I reca'nize ya voice," he replied," Who'a you?"

"I don't think he can see very good,"Pete whispered over to Gil.

The boss nodded, though he didn't really see what that had to do with any thing.

"Name's Gil Favor, I'm trail boss of th - "

"Neveh 'eard 'a ya," the sheep man shook his head," Ya got a big 'erd?"

Gil set his jaw, but tried not to get any more irritated than he already was.

"Yeah, three thousand head," he replied, with only a little strain.

"Yeah?" the man's tone seemed to indicate that he was more interested in being difficult than bargaining.

"Are you gonna let us through?"

"Whull, I dunno," he rubbed his beard in mock-thoughtfulness,"The grass here's bonza alright, 'n me lambs are tired after comin' in over them mountains. Gotta build 'ere strength back up 'fore we head back up."

Gil grit his teeth. "There's fine grazing all up 'n down these hills, you're sheep'll be just fine. My cattle, on the other hand, need to pass through this valley. They won't do that if your sheep have been eating up all the grass and leaving behind their smell." The trail boss knew that the sheep man already knew all of this, but he wanted to try just one more time to reason with the man.

"Oh, but you don' understand, my sheep won't eat hill grass. They only eat valley grass."

That was it.

"Look," Gil suddenly erupted," You'd b - "

"Hey, Jacko, it's me," Emily quickly cut off the trail boss,"Put your glasses on and let us through."

The effect of her voice was immediate. Recognition registered on the Aussie's face, along with a previously absent pleasantness.  
"Ey, that you, Birdy?" a smile lit up his bearded face as his eyes went to the smaller figure on the blotchy horse. He fumbled at his shirt pocket for a moment, before finally succeeding to pull some glasses out and put them on. "Oy, it is you!"

"Fair dinkum, ya ol' bushie," she replied, trying to match his accent.

They both laughed, while Gil simply sat in his saddle trying not to be annoyed. At the sheep man, at Emily for proving his moment of unreasonableness, at Pete for being amused.

"Oh! Ey - " it seemed like the herdsman suddenly remembered something. That's when he started whistling. The dogs went to work immediately, moving the sheep toward the eastern slope of the valley. It wasn't fifteen minutes before the flock was gathered up on the hill, off the trail and out of the way of the cattle.

"Beautiful!" Emily smiled charmingly," Is that little red one your newest?"

"Yeah, he's a good little ankle-biter, that one is. Always right on the - " Once again, he stopped abruptly. His eyes turned to the two cattlemen. "Ey, shouldn't you be getting' yeh cows on through 'ere?"

Gil's eyes narrowed, so slightly that it may have been unnoticeable. "Yeah." He gave a nod to the Aussie and pulled his horse around.  
Pete was a little more good-natured, and tipped his hat at the man in glasses. "Nice to meet you, Mr...?"

"Hughs, Jack Hughs,"he replied in an equally amiable manner,"Nice ta meet ya too, cobber."

They exchanged smiles and a nod, then Pete turned back to Emily. "We'll be right back, I'll let you two catch up."

"Thanks, Peter," Emily smirked up at the scout.

He huffed at her use of his full name, though unconvincingly, then rode off after the trail boss, leaving the girl and the 'bushie' chattering happily behind.

"Now, considerin' your steers got their passage granted without any trouble," Pete glanced over the boss's way, watching his face carefully,"I would think you'd be in a better mood."

Gil didn't reply, only took off his hat and waved it at the men. "Get 'em goin'!"

Pete snorted. _To be expected._

He spotted Rowdy coming over to meet them, another thing that was easily predictable.

"That what it looks like?" Rowdy's eyes were already latched to the flock below.

"Yup. _That's_ a bunch of sheep, and _that's_ Emily talking to another man." Gil's voice was flat and void of any amusement.

Rowdy looked up at the boss quickly, Pete raised an eyebrow.

He was in one of _those_ moods.

Of course Rowdy would have said something, had not Mr. Favor rode off. And deliberately to avoid just that, no doubt.

"What's got _him_ so awful put out?" the ramrod watched the departing rider head back toward the wagons.

Pete could only shake his head and sigh.

* * *

If it had been anyone else, there would have been a lot said. Jeers and jokes, scolding even. But because it was the girl, every one of those drovers took it as best as they could.

They couldn't quiet grasp how a person as sweet and informed could associate _willingly_ with a sheep man, and Emily didn't try to explain herself.

The men couldn't help but _notice_ that her and the man had talked cordially the whole time the herd was passing beside them. Well, okay, so they had sort of had a hard time _not_ staring, but that was beside the point. And when it was time to go, the bearded man pulled out some books and something wrapped up in a cloth. She shook her head, saying something, but he insisted, dumping the things in her saddle bags. She smiled gratefully, once again speaking. But what befuddled the men the most was when she wrapped her arms around his neck and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

 _A sheep herder!_

They said their goodbyes, then she came up after the leaving herd. She behaved so naturally afterwards, like she had not just committed such a scandalous social sin, that the drovers weren't even sure it really happened.

That day at noon camp, they came in to find her carving out a big hunk of cheese. Cheese... What man in his right mind don't like cheese?

"Say, where'd ya get that?" Joe asked, eyeing the yellow slab.

"From Jacko," Emily replied, popping a little cut in her mouth.

Teddy eyed the beckoning goodness, torn. "Sheep-man cheese?" he said under his breath.

The dark-haired girl glanced up at the silly young man. "Boy, cheese is cheese."

The men watched in silence as she nibbled on another piece.

"Y'all can have some, if ya want."

It didn't take long for some takers to come forward, despite their moral beliefs.

"How'd you get ta know a person like him, anyway?" Clay finally asked.

Emily grinned. "It seems the Carters always had a knack at attracting oddities. That's probably why Rowdy came around when he did back at the cabin."

The men seemed to think it was funny, except for maybe Rowdy, who at least tried to look amused.

Emily nudged his shoulder with hers gently. _Don't take it too seriously._

"Okay, _actually_ , he's a neighbour of sorts. He comes across this valley about every three months, grazing his sheep around."

"And the folks 'round here with cattle don't mind?" Jim asked, working on another hunk of cheese.

"He was a cattleman back in Australia, so he knows how not to step on any toes too awful hard," Emily replied,"He never stays anywhere too long, don't let his sheep strip the land."

She washed the cheddar down with a few sips of water, before continuing. "He can be... testing at times, but if you treat him right, he's just a jolly ol' cobber." She grinned at the last part.

There was a moment of silence as the men thought this over.

"Well, I guess I can't argue," Joe finally said, raising his piece of cheese, then tossing it into his mouth.

And the men were in no place to disagree as Emily handed out another round.

* * *

The valleys and hills here were beautiful. It was that simple. Green and lush, like something right out of a man's dream. And as Gil looked down upon the scene from one of those rounded hilltops, he knew that this was the kind of place he'd been looking for all his life.

 _If_ he found a girl who would be a mother for his children.

He had thought for a brief moment that maybe, just maybe, he had found the right girl. She certainly had a lot to offer. Independent, but not afraid to be feminine. Maybe a little manipulative at times, but he genuinely believed that she cared about his men. And his girls would adore her!

His heart lifted as he thought these things, only to sink back down.

No. It seemed that he was 'father Favor' to her, the man who looks and acts like her father.

Gil closed his eyes, letting out a sharp breath through his lips. The thought made him feel sick.

It was a long time that he stayed there, smelling the fresh air, feeling the warm breeze, and thinking. When he finally opened his eyes once again, there was decision in his eyes.

He liked Emily, he really did. It was just something hard not to do with her. But if she wanted a father out of him, if that's really what she needed, then he would do his best to be just that for her.

As he rode back to camp, he sorted his feelings out. It would be hard, and it already was. But he was determined to put away any romantic thoughts that he may have had for her. And when he arrived at camp, he did his best to look as her like he would one of his daughters.

"Is everything going alright, Emily?" he asked when he got there, seeing the men all gathered around her. He hadn't intended to use her first name, but since it was the name that he always used when he was thinking about her, it just slipped right on out.

Emily smiled, accepting her given name happily. "Just fine, Mr. Favor." She cut off a hunk of cheese and offered it to him.

He didn't know where she got it from, but he didn't decline. "Much obliged," he returned the smile.

Emily felt her heart skip a beat as she looked up into his blue eyes. She could see something there if she looked hard enough, maybe she could even hear it in his voice, though she wasn't sure.

Affection. Just a little bit peeking out around his eyes.

Her hand reflexively went down to press at her side, which had doubtlessly started leaking blood again as he sat down right next to her and started drinking coffee.

"I'm sorry about earlier," he said quietly as the other men started talking among themselves about other things. Emily tilted her head.

"Then we'll both forget about it," she replied softly.

Gil could see it, subtle but beckoning in her face. Love. But as to _what_ _kind_ , he had largely misinterpreted.

"Thanks," he placed a light hand on her back, a gesture of gratitude, before getting to his feet. "I'm going to go look over some maps now. You know where to find me, if you need."

"Sure thing, Mr. Favor." She was soaring over the clouds as she watched him go, hand still on side.

 _Mr. Favor._ Even after he had started using her given name, she was still calling him that. Even after she had started calling every other man on the drive by their less formal names, there it was _. Mr. Favor.  
_  
Neither of the two knew, however, of the pair of watchful eyes that was taking in everything that went about between them.

Wishbone looked on with an expression of concern as the girl pressed at her wound. It struck him strange. Emily seldom messed with her injury. But it dawned on him that the times when she _did_ , was always when the boss was nearby.

At this point he still wasn't sure what to think of it. Wasn't quiet sure that he should be thinking about it at all. But he _was_ thinking.

And it was starting to nag at him.

* * *

 **Hey, guys! I hope you enjoyed my latest dabble. Hopefully it isn't getting too slow for ya, but I think the strength and depth in the relationships of the characters really add to the whole story when the real drama sets in.**

 **Pointrider: So glad to see you down there again! And thanks for your review.**

 **And a thanks to everyone who read!**

 **Until next time,**

 **~ NightRunner**


	6. Chapter 6

Clay Forester. Smooth step, smooth voice. As some of the men put it, he could convince a person that East was West and kissing cactus was good for the lips, if he was given enough time to talk it out. And if there was one thing in the world he enjoyed doing, it was sweet-talking girls.

That's just what he did. Open and unabashed, he flirted with Emily whenever he got the chance to do so. Provided, of course, that it was when he was off-duty or at a time and place where he would not get caught by the boss.

It bothered the other drovers, but what was most frustrating was that Emily seemed to encourage him.

"This looks like a mighty fine dinner, Carter,"Clay spoke in his suave manner as Emily handed him a plate piled with food. He had that charming smile on that the other men hated so much.

Emily returned his expression with an equally alluring smile of her own. "I hope you like it," she replied in a playful purr,"I was thinking about you while I was chopping the onions."

Wishbone moaned, rolling his eyes. "Spare me," he whispered, looking to the night sky.

Emily simply thought of it as friendly play, and took none of it seriously.

After everyone was served, Clay somehow ended up sitting right next to Emily. On her left side. In Quince's spot.

Clay Forester was flirting with Emily Carter in Jim Quinces spot.

Now that was just too much.

A very annoyed "Jimbo" made his way over to where Gil was eating. He stood there, plate in hand, looking down expectantly at the boss. Boot tapping the earth, the corner of his mouth curved downward under his mustache.

Gil tried to ignore him, eating his food and hoping he'd just go away. But finally, after what must have been minutes of attempted disregard, he let out a sigh, put his plate down on his knees, and looked up at his drover. "What?"

Jim stiffened. "What do ya mean 'what'?" he spit indignantly, though he kept his voice low enough that he wouldn't draw attention to the boss and himself. He motioned to the camp in front of them, as if it was obvious. Gil looked around, but things seemed peaceful enough.

"I don't see anything wrong."

Gil thought it was amazing that Jim's mustache didn't curl, the way heat fumes and sparks seemed to start wafting off of him.

"Well, then I'll tell ya what's wrong,"Jim replied through gritted teeth,"That _Clay_ is sittin' in _my_ rightful spot." He spoke as if he were describing the most despicable scene a man could witness.

Gil clenched his teeth, fighting the urge to roll his eyes. _Of all the petty little..._

"Just go sit down, Jim."

"I can't, _Mr. Favor,_ there's someone in my spot."

Gil let out an exasperated breath. "Fine, then! You can just stand around and - "

"Hey, Jim-bobby!" an all too familiar voice grabbed the men's attentions from the other side of the camp,"Aren't you going to come and sit down? Here -" Emily turned to Clay, motioning at him with a dainty wave of her hand," - Scoot over a bit."

Clay did move over, pushing his hat back on his head and rolling his eyes when Emily wasn't looking.

That was all it took to appease the formerly grieved drover. Jim quickly made his way back to claim his spot. "Why, thank ya, Carty!" he said cheerfully, glancing over to his left to shoot Clay a smug look.

This time, Gil didn't bother trying to hold back the eye-roll that he felt coming on. "Oh, _boy_ ," he mumbled under his breath.

"Well, it just don't seem right, eatin' without ya there to my left," Emily replied, forking some food into her mouth," I sorta gotten used to ya bein' there. Kinda like... Kinda like that's your rightful spot."

Rowdy, who of course was sitting at Emily's right, looked around curiously. If he hadn't known better, he would have sworn that he'd heard someone groan over there somewhere.

But no, he must have been mistaken. Mr. Favor was the only one sitting in that direction.

* * *

 **This one was just a little shorty, written on the spur of the moment for the primary purpose of humoring myself. But I hope y'all enjoyed it, too!**

 **I was thrilled to see two more reviews, just when I thought that last week's chapter wasn't going to get any.**

 **To my guest: Wish granted, my dear!**

 **And to Caro: You know, so was I. I almost hate to do this to Gil, considering he's so wonderful and how much I adore him. Yet at the same time it's sorta fun!**

 **And to be honest, I'm sort of torn as to who should "get the girl", if the girl should be gotten at all in the end. I had it all planned out when I started, but now... I'm just falling in love with drovers left and right!**

 **Anyway. Gosh, my rambling is almost as long as the chapter... So I better cut it off now.**

 **Until next time,**

 **~ TheNightRunner**


	7. Chapter 7

**Warnings: Light comic suggestiveness when someone misinterprets nothing into something.**

* * *

Early morning birds sang in the fresh Missouri air. Wishbone was just about finished making breakfast, and the rest of the crew were gathering up their beds.

It was customary now: Emily slept under the supply wagon, Rowdy slept on her right, and Pete slept on her left.

"Hey, Rowdy," she said, folding up a blanket,"Before I started sleepin' on the ground... You usually slept next to Mr. Favor, right?"

Rowdy stopped what he was doing and looked at Emily.

"Yeah..." he said slowly, as if it might have been a trick question.

Emily nodded her head and went on with her folding. Rowdy, however, seemed to be slightly disturbed by the question.

"Why'd ya ask?" he went on suspiciously.

Emily shrugged, not looking up. "Just askin'."

But Rowdy was not convinced. "No, you had a reason,"he insisted," What is it?"

Emily hesitated for a moment, before she finally shrugged. "Well, I was just thinkin' about how cute it was that you two did that," Emily said, gathering her stuff up,"Like he's your daddy and you're his little boy or something. So sweet."

Pete started sputtering and coughing on her other side, having choked on some spit at what he'd just heard. It was such a violent attack that tears started forming in his eyes. Or maybe that was from how hard he was also laughing between the fits.

Gil, who had been been heading for them to tell the two men to pick up the pace, stopped in his tracks upon seeing the state his pair of drovers were in and immediately turned on the heels of his boots, heading back the way he came. He didn't know what was going on, and he wasn't about to get himself involved.

Rowdy had turned a dark, angry red. Not at Emily, but certainly at Pete, who was trying his best to stop. But the expression on the ramrod's face just made it worse for the scout.

"He's really not _that_ much older than me," he said defensively, trying to contain himself. _Daddy... Little Boy... Most certainly not him!  
_

"I didn't say he was..." Emily looked up, hearing the tightness in her friend's voice. She hadn't realized he would be so touchy about it. "I was just sayin' that your relationship was very... endearin'." She tried to pick the right words that would calm him down again. "And I don't mean to challenge or down-play your masculinity or capabilities," she added quickly,"I mean, you have to be mature 'n responsible to ramrod three thousand head, but I was just... I, um..."

Rowdy didn't look any less offended, and Pete was doubled over, hanging on to a wagon wheel for dear life and clutching his stomach as he tried not to pass out from laughing so hard. He was using every bit of will power to try and stop, but it just didn't seem to be enough. Not when Rowdy looked as disrupted and red as he did.

Emily knew she wasn't going to talk herself out of this one. She'd have to just be direct.

She let out a sigh. "Oh, Rowdy, don't be like that." She then stepped closer and raised herself on her tip-toes to give him a peck on the cheek.

The magic seemed to work, wiping the sourness off of Rowdy's face.

"Now, you go eat," she concluded, dusting off his shirt and taking a step back.

Pete had stopped laughing when he saw their exchange. The two men watched as Emily picked up her stuff and headed to put them up int the supply wagon. But the scout still couldn't help but let loose a few more chuckles as he and Rowdy made their way to get some breakfast.

This time, though, Rowdy made a point to ignore him.

* * *

 **The Magic Hands**

When something like this happens, it always catches the person victim to the occasion off guard. Of course it could have been worse, so he he didn't complain too much, all things considered.

Jim just wished he would have seen that rattler before his horse did.

All the other drovers knew was that his horse had started bucking, and Jim was laying on the ground screaming bloody murder as the horse stomped around him and the cattle started running. Fortunately, the steers had chosen to run away from the fallen drover, and the horse's hooves missed him.

"Jim!" Joe was immediately down on the ground by his side, with several other men in tow. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a scaly, diamond pattern slithering away into some brush.

Quince groaned, his body arching slightly. "My back, Joe," he hissed through clinched teeth.

"Just leave him still 'til Wish gets here," Rowdy said, kneeling down beside the mustached man and checking over him as best as he could without moving him.

It wasn't long before Emily came galloping up bareback, having seen the accident from the wagons.

"Jimmy!"

Rowdy had never seen the motherly side of the girl, and to be honest, out here with nothing but a bunch of dusty men and cattle, he hadn't thought he ever would.

But there she was, sprawled out on the ground, babying the forty-something year old man.

"Jimmy-Bo-Bo, are you alright?" She crooned. Pulling his hat off, she lifting his head onto her lap and ran her fingers through his hair soothingly.

"Don't you worry," Jim tried to reassure her, clearly strained,"this happens all the time."

"I should say it doesn't!" Emily warbled,"Why, I heard a man hurt his back like this one time, 'n after that he couldn't – well, never mind. I'll take good care of ya, anyhow."

Rowdy didn't roll his eyes, but only because Jim was obviously in pain.

 _Hurry up, Wishbone!_

* * *

By the time the chuck wagon finally did get there, drovers weren't sure if they felt sorry for Jim, or if they envied his place. He had gotten stiff, and he'd said it had started hurting worse. But the more he seemed to hurt the more Emily insisted on making a fuss over him.

"You poor baby, will some water help?" she cooed, lifting a canteen to his lips.

If anyone else on the drive would have called him _baby,_ they would have a fight on their hands, hurt back or not. But since it was a _girl_ that had said it, and particularly _that_ girl...

"Thanks, Carty," Jim breathed,"I sure am glad we got you around."

 _He fell of a horse and got a little roughed up. So what?_

Of course nobody said that, but some would have liked to. Joe was about the only one who didn't seem to think Emily was overly concerned.

Wishbone seemed to agree, however, that the swelling that had started up didn't look pretty.

"He managed to land right on a rock," the cook said, kicking at the half-dollar sized stone. "Get him in the wagon. He'll live, but he won't be riding again for several days."

"Careful!" Emily screeched when they picked him up, a little less gently than the girl saw was called for.

"Well, I'm glad _someone_ knows how to treat a man in his condition," Joe commented, equally disturbed at the clumsy handling.

"Oh, shut up, Joe," Rowdy just barely heard Teddy grumble.

* * *

The sun was high in the sky as a group of drovers headed in for noon camp. They were all more than ready to have their break and food, and to see how Quince was doing. And, okay, to see how Emily was doing, too.

"Boy, that cookin' sure smells good,"Sam Califred commented.

"Yeah, but don't tell ol' Wish that," Joe told him,"If he gets a big head, we won't never be - "

A loud groan coming from the other side of camp disrupted Joe's thoughts.

The men stopped short, all listening.

"It must be Jim," Rowdy said slowly, squinting his eyes.

The sound came again.

"He's dyin'!" Joe exclaimed.

Heels dug into flanks, and the bunch of men went galloping toward the camp.

Wishbone saw them coming, and immediately his eyebrows crinkled together. "Now, what's - "

"Over there, by the crik!" One of the men shouted after another groan sounded on the other side of a wagon.

The men flew around the cart, suddenly stopping at the sight that now lay in front of them.

All they could do was stare blankly with their mouths hanging open at Jim, shirtless and slumped over a boulder with his arms hanging limp on either side of him. Jaw slack, eyes only half open and distant. A low groan drooling from his mouth, and a look of pure bliss was on his face as Emily massaged his back.

Jim suddenly jerked when her hands made it to a certain spot, causing the rest of the men to jump with him.

"Oh, right there... Yeah..." the injured drover murmured," Yeah, that's... that's good..."

Rowdy cleared his throat, somewhat unsettled by all this. Emily looked up at them, giving them a nod of greeting.

"Howdy, boys," she replied, still kneading away at her patient.

Several moments passed while the drovers tried to think of something to say. Rowdy tried to think of a subtle way to tell her to, well, to stop that. It was just... too much. It couldn't be proper... could it?

Right when he just about worked up the nerve to speak, though, something happened that brought about a considerable change in heart for the men.

Emily spoke first. "I'm 'bout done here. Anyone else need a rub down while I still got the axle grease out?"

* * *

Gil Favor came in from the herd, only to find several of his men laying around the camp, a stupid glazed look on their faces.

Rowdy was vacantly plucking at a guitar, Sam and Collin were quietly comparing biceps. Teddy was taking his time enjoying his food, while Buck simply sat and stared elatedly at something that Gil couldn't for the life of himself see. The rest of the men were in a similar state.

And all with that same absent, sleepy, stupid grin.

He narrowed his eyes and stepped over to Joe, who was currently less than half awake with an empty plate balanced on his stomach.

The trail boss lowered his face, taking a whiff of his drover's breath.

 _Nope, not liquor._

"Coffee, boss?" Wishbone asked.

He was over by the fire, already pouring a mug for the trail boss.

Gil took the cup in hand and gazed suspiciously at the camp around him. "Say, Wish, what's going on here?"

It was then that Mushy came floating in, bare-backed with his shirt loosely held in his hand and dragging on the ground, and a look of sedation glowing on his awed features.

"She's amazing," he managed to get out from between his lips.

Gil stiffened. It was some moments before he could speak again: "What?" Less of a question and more of an aghast demand.

"Her hands, they're like magic..." Mushy replied hazily, sighing at the memory.

A murmur of agreement rose from the other men.

"You should go now. I think she's getting a little tired, but she's been waiting for you," the cook's louse went on,"Just go down past the wagon. I can hold your shirt for you if you want. Oh, and don't mind Jim. He's still with her, but he won't mind."

Gil felt his blood start to boil. He turned toward the wagon from which Mushy had come around from and tore off. He was too angry to be afraid of what he might find at this point.

"Jim!" he yelled, not caring if the man was injured or not as he rounded the corner.

Said drover, who had been having a nice conversation with Emily about his childhood while she worked on his shoulders, suddenly stopped mid-sentence at the sound of the boss's angry voice.

 _What've I done wrong now?_

He quickly sat up as the dark-haired boss came into view. They both froze; Jim because Mr. Favor was obviously upset, and Gil because he was trying to assess the situation.

So the scene was not exactly what he had expected, but then Gil wasn't exactly sure what he _had_ expected in the first place. They were just sitting there, fully clothed and apparently innocent. Jim had been leaning back on his elbows with Emily sitting behind him with a hand on either shoulder.

"Anythin'... wrong, boss?" Jim ventured.

Gil could feel a headache coming on now.

"No, no. Nothing," he replied, pulling his hat off and running his fingers through his hair. He decided it might just be best to try to divert the subject. "How are you feeling?"

Jim and Emily exchanged looks, before the drover pushed himself up to his feet with relative ease.

"Still a little sore, but I'll be able ta go nighthawkin'," he said proudly.

Gil didn't look all that impressed, considering. "Magic hands, huh?" he asked begrudgingly.

Jim looked surprised. "Whull, uh, yeah!" he chuckled.

"Now, where'd ya hear that term?" Emily smirked. She looked over at Jim, who looked back at her.

 _Mushy._

"Well, I better grab some grub," the mustached drover stretched, letting out a big, refreshed breath.

Gil, tight-lipped, didn't respond. He turned to go back to the rest of the men with Jim, ready to forget about all this.

 _Yup, that's definitely a headache comin'._

But Jim stopped when he saw Gil was following.

"Oh, uh, I b'lieve s'your turn, boss." He widened his eyes, nodding his head just slightly as if to say, " _Trust me!"_

Gil, however, was never one to be easily pushed.

"Ah, I think I'm good," he replied, trying not to sound too tedious.

"Oh, no, Mr. Favor!" Emily looked aghast,"You need this just as much as Jimmy-Bo does. Having all the worries you do is quiet the load. Why, already you look like ya got a headache."

 _Was it really that obvious?_

"I really don't need it _that_ bad..." he reasoned weakly, but already Emily was at his side and hooking her arm into his, trying to drag him over to the boulder. He tried to seem like he was putting up a fight, but he could tell by the expression on Jim's face as he turned back to camp that it must have looked pretty feeble.

"Now, don't you worry 'boutta thing," Emily told him lightly,"Just take your shirt off 'n I'll - " She was jolted to a sudden stop when the man her arms were linked to halted abruptly.

"No thanks, I think I'll just go on 'n eat with the rest of the men,"He told her politely, but Gil's mind was now made up.

"What? No." Emily, like always, was quick to argue for her own way."It won't take long, and you can - "

"No," Gil repeated firmly.

Emily stopped, looking up at him blankly as she studied his face. "Look, if you're self-conscious or somethin'," she said quickly, yet somehow in a joking manner,"I've already handled Toothless. You got nothin' to worry about."

Gil looked away, sighing. "Just no. Alright? No." His voice was soft, but unwavering.

In truth, he _was_ self-conscious. He'd caught plenty of bullets in his time, but that didn't bother him. Several of his men had taken a plug at some point or another, and he knew Rowdy had more than his fair share. It was the stripes that bothered him most, from when he'd been bull-whipped back in the little town of Zebulon. Though the wounds had since healed, the scars and occasional pain were a constant reminder. The men, of course, knew about it, but it was never spoken of and totally ignored during baths. But... to let the girl see them was too much.

Emily considered his answer momentarily.

"Okay, just your head then," she soon came to a compromise, gripping his arm tighter and starting to tug him towards the smooth boulder again,"Ya can't boss properly unless you unwind, right?"

He let out a sigh, but seemed to consent.

"You'll thank me later," Emily smirked, pulling him down to sit on the rock.

Gil sat still like a good boy, though maybe a little impatient. Emily cracked her knuckles, her work laid out for her.

* * *

"Oh, Gil, they just don't understand, that's all." He voice was gentle and understanding. She shook her head sympathetically as she ran her fingers through his chocolate hair soothingly.

"I know, I know," the trail boss said earnestly,"And I like my men, I really do! I honestly think that they do their best. But sometimes I just get so tired and everything is out to get me, and..." he let out a sigh. His eyes were shut, and though his muscles were relaxed he subconsciously leaned his head back into the girl's hands as she went on messaging him. He let out another contented breath as her fingers went to that one place right above his ears again.

She was only trying to be helpful.

It seemed the more she loosened his muscles, the more his mind seemed to loosen up as well. She'd opened up the subject of how hot it had been that day, and he'd just let one opinion slip out. Then another. Somehow she'd managed to piece together that this had not been the easiest drive from the little things he'd say.

"Maybe you just need to level with them sometimes, let them know what you're going through," she suggested, her slender fingers working their way slowly down to his neck. "Maybe they'd respond better if they knew the reason behind your orders."

"I don't know... I don't think so. And it's not their job to be burdened down with the details." He shook his head slightly, but not enough to disturb her palpations.

"But they're not just your drovers, they're your friends, too. Aren't they?"

Gil's eyes opened as the words registered. "Yes... they are. That's all the more reason to protect them."

Emily pursed her lips as her hands made their way to his shoulders. "Don't ya think maybe they'd wanna protect you, too? Only they can't know when it is that you need it most if ya never let on."

A moment of silence ensued, save for the sounds of the nearby camp and Gil's irregular breathing as the girl kneeded away at him.

"Just remember this, Mr. Favor; you're not God, and you're not their daddy. Just a man." Her hands stopped her applications, straightening out his vest out and cramming his hat back on his head. "An exceptional one, maybe, but still just a man."

She gave his a smirk as he quickly pulled his hat back off his head, bushed his hair back with his fingers and set the hat back on properly. He scowled at her, but he didn't really mean anything by it. And somehow, he knew that she knew it too.

"Welp, I hope that did ya some good," she said, turning towards the camp,"We better go eat now before the boys hog it all down."

"Oh, I'm sure there's at least enough left for you," Gil commented as he got up to his feet.

She stopped short, turning back to give him a big grin.

Together they came around the chuck wagon.

"Go ahead and sit down, I'll get your food," Emily told him as she headed for the plates.

Gil was about to protest, but Jim had already come up and was blocking him from following.

"I b'lieve yer glowin', boss," he whispered with a grin,"See, what did I tell ya?"

Gil leaned back on his heels, crossing his arms. "Well, let me see... Oh, yeah! It does seem to me like you told me you'd be able to ride nighthawk..."

Jim stiffened. "Well, Mr. Favor. I would'a thought you'd be in a better mood after that!"

The trail boss pushed his hat back on his head, a small smirk appearing. "Well, Jim-bo, to tell you the truth I'm in great mood. So don't ruin it for me and I'll let someone else take your place tonight."

Jim was relieved. "Whatever ya say, boss..." He thought for a moment,"I'm sure it was just horrible."

Didn't miss a beat. "Terrible, terrible,"He replied, shaking his head,"I kept tryin' to get away and she just wouldn't let me."

"I know it, that's what she done to all the boys," Jim nodded, trying to be as solemn as possible,"Practically had to tie Rowdy down."

It was at that point that Pete came in from scouting, fanning himself with his hat.

"Phew! Boy it's hot..." he shook his head as he came to stand next to Gil and Jim, who were simply standing there pleasantly. There seemed to be something different about them _._ The scout looked around.

You know, there seemed to be something different about the whole camp...

 _What's with that glazed look on Teddy's face?  
_

"Did I miss somethin'?" Pete asked, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

* * *

 **Again, I hope you enjoyed! I plan to have something pretty big happen in the next few chapters, so please stay tuned!**

 **Until next time,**

 **~ TheNightRunner**


	8. Chapter 8

Mushy wasn't nearly as young as he had always seemed to everyone. The fact was that the cook's louse was only a few years younger than Rowdy. Yet somehow he had been able to remain just as immature and unsuspecting as many young children. Of course the men liked him for his earnestness, but there was one thing that they could have lived without.

"Ssshhhh!" Joe hissed, quickly kneeling down to pick up the empty coffee pot that Mushy had dropped at the drover's feet when he once again forgot that it would be hot when he picked it up.

 _Why did Mushy have to be so clumsy?_

"Gee, I'm sorry!" Mushy quickly said, he reached out and took the pot from Joe, grabbing it over the cloth that Joe had used on the handle. But when he turned around, he tripped over a crate and toppled down to the ground, the coffee pot once again making all kinds of racket as it hit the ground.

Jim sighed with defeat, Rowdy rolled his eyes.

"What in tarn – You fumble-footed knuckle-head!" Wishbone sibilated in a hushed tone. "If you wake that girl up you won't get any sleep 'till next Tuesday, 'n I'll make sure of it!"

"Well, I said I was sorry..." Mushy mumbled as he now carefully made his way back to the cook's wagon.

It's not like he'd wanted to trip and make all that noise. He, just as much as anybody, didn't want to disturb the still slumbering girl.

It had seemed that all that attention Emily had given the men the day before had taken a good bit of energy out of her. Up until today, she had gotten up with the rustling of the men. Currently, though, she was sleeping soundly in the supply wagon.

The night before, a chilly wind had blown up seemingly out of nowhere. Jesús had looked out over the hills, shaking his head solemnly when he had felt that wind.

"Oh, thees is no good,"the Mexican clicked his tongue,"My cousin's wife once - "

" _Don't. Even. Start_." Gil Favor was quick to cut him off firmly. He didn't want to hear about any of his silly little superstitions, or what his cousin's wife did, or what misfortunate significance a cold wind on a night of these particular characteristics had. "I don't want to hear about it, and I don't want to hear about it."

Thankfully, none of the other men had heard the wrangler, otherwise they'd want to hear what he had to say for mere curiosity.

Jesús shrugged, shaking his head once more. "Se, whatever you say, Señor boss," he said with resign. But Gil heard the implied, _but I know better._

Wishbone had decided that, just in case bad weather were to come, Emily had better sleep in the wagon. And when, just as he'd predicted, she protested, he just went ahead and made it clear to her that he wasn't going to budge an inch on his decision.

But after Wishbone did put her to bed it was only a matter of moments before she was out cold, dead to the world within the dingy-white enclosure of the wagon and buried in her blanket.

"Will you get away from there?" Pete whispered with considerable stress, a look of exasperation replacing his usually mellow features.

A small group of the men where gathered quietly next to the supply wagon, just standing there and seemingly minding their own business.

 _Yeah, right._

Pete was no fool. He knew that they had been taking turns discreetly taking peeks in at the slumbering girl through a crack in the canvas. Both Gil and Rowdy, who would have been on their backs in an instant if only they could have seen this, were out checking on something or another, though they were due to be back at any minute. This left Pete automatically in charge, and he was no more pleased with the men's actions than the ramrod or boss would have been.

And so upon hearing the irritation in the scout's voice, the men quickly turned towards him.

"She's asleep, we ain't hurtin' nothin'," Teddy whispered back defensively.

Several of them glanced back over at the sleeping girl. It was hard for them not to consider how cute she looked, drool streaming down her cheek and all.

But the two lines between Pete's furrowed eyebrows only deepened.

"You got any idea how hard it is to sleep good when ya got eyes starin' at ya?" he asked pointedly.

There was a moment of consideration.

"Maybe... he's got a point,"admitted Sam, who had been a commendably less conspicuous about his starings.

"You're mighty well told, he is!" Wishbone spit as he walked by.

The men slowly dispersed, easing away from the wagon just as slowly and nonchalantly as they had approached it. Their movements showed a hint of begrudging at first, but in the end they were all glad they had complied with Pete's words. For no sooner had they cleared from the wagon than Rowdy and Gil came trotting in.

"Breakfast ready yet, Wish?" Gil asked, climbing down off his horse.

"Just about," the cook replied, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

Gil and Rowdy stepped closer to the wagon.

"She still asleep?" the boss now whispered. Both him and Rowdy peeked through the canvas curtain.

The men who had just moments before been in Gil and Rowdy's place smirked over at Pete, who was already rolling his eyes.

But the pair did not linger, and soon went to sit down.

"It's just be a few minutes 'till food's ready, now," Wishbone told them men as he set a fresh pot of coffee over the fire.

When he turned around though, he froze in his step.

"Drop your weapons."

All eyes snapped over to where a man was standing between the two wagons. He was dressed similarly to the drovers, with the exception of his clothes being obviously a lot newer. His face was mostly covered by his neckercheif, and the brim of his expensive new hat shadowed his eyes. He must have come up so slowly, so quietly that nobody had noticed him creeping up from the patch of brush just down the hill. But they noticed him now, and they definitely noticed the gun that was pointed in their direction.

"And just _who_ might you be?" Rowdy glared at the man through narrowed eyes.

"Just get those belts off," the man snapped.

Unfortunately, they didn't have much of a choice at the moment. But even as they were dropping their gun belts to the ground, in each mind, the picture of a sleeping girl appeared.

"You got a lotta nerve, doin' this," Gil said with a stony expression,"You do know you won't get very far, right?"

"You can just shut up!" came the replying growl. He shifted his weight on his feet just slightly.

It was a giveaway, as small a gesture as it was. It was a sign of nervousness. Judging by the way he talked, he was young, and probably came from somewhere east. He didn't at all sound or seem like the type of person who aught to be out holding up drovers.

"Now," the man continued,"you're going to tell me where the cash box is, or else the old man gets it."

" _Old?!_ " the cook nearly blew his top right then and there,"Why, you put down that pea-shooter o' your's away, 'n I could take you any ol' day, _boy_!"

The stranger didn't reply at first. He took a brief moment to analyze the men.

"Say, what was it in this wagon that you men have been so interested in all this morning?"

Several of the drovers visibly stiffened. Gil felt his heart speed up.

"The money's in the other wagon,"was the trail boss' cool answer.

"Aw, now you have me curious." They could almost hear the smile on the man's face. "Or maybe I just don't believe you. Maybe you're trying to stall me long enough that some of your other men can come in and ruin my little plans. Maybe the money's really in _this_ wagon."

"It's in the metal box, in the _other_ wagon,"Gil didn't waver for a moment,"You can't miss it."

This time a chuckle was heard. The man sidestepped toward the supply wagon, refusing to turn his back on the men.

"Well, now I simply _have_ to look," he said, now standing right in front of the wagon,"Can't have you holding out on me, can I?"

The men were ready to lunge for a gun if necessary now. All this no-good yankee needed was a hostage to give him all the leverage he needed. Just as soon as he took his eyes off of them...

Only he kept his eyes on the bunch as he reached back and pulled the curtain open, expecting them to do something like they _were_ planning. But instead of carrying out their notions, they seemed to pause, an odd look on their faces.

Suspicious, the man kept his gun trained on them as he turned to glance into the wagon, only to find he was gazing down the barrel of a rifle. On the other end of the gun was a rather pretty, very unamused face.

"Drop it," came the girl's sleepy voice. The imprint of her blanket was still plastered to one side of her face.

It only took a moment for the man to comply, a look of shock etched on his face.

"Ya come in here, wakin' me up, pointin' guns 'n insultin' my friends?" she fumed, her newly-woken voice still slightly groggy,"I don't rightly 'preciate that."

He was just about to decide to play it cool and keep silent, but the way the girl's eyes narrowed down at him changed his mind.

He was about to say something, anything, but realized that her mind was already made up. Her lips pressed together, and her grip on the gun tightened. He thought she was going to shoot him on the spot. Instead, she pulled her rifle stock back and whacked him just as hard as she could muster across the face with it.

* * *

The men stood around as Pete tied the man up, nice and secure-like in the back of the supply wagon. He was still unconscious, but his face where he had been hit was swollen up considerably and turned a nasty blue.

"Was it really necessary?" Gil asked, gazing at the unpleasant welt.

"Was what necessary?" Emily was completely recovered from her disagreeable awakening, and was simply watching Pete do his work while she worked on her breakfast.

"Hitting him. Was it necessary?" Gil turned his eyes to the girl now. The stranger did indeed turn out to be young when they pulled his neckerchief down, appearing to be in his early twenties. His hand skin was soft and fair, like he'd never seen hard work in his life, and hardly any sun.

"Well, I hardly think so,"Emily shrugged, taking another bite of bacon,"After all, he was disarmed."

 _Well, then._

"Felt good, though," she finished.

"I think he got what he deserved,"Jim called, still annoyed from the event.

"Here, here!" cried Collin from the other side of the wagon.

"He certainly was askin' for it," Pete commented, now finished and closing the curtain on the man.

Gil made no reply. There just wouldn't be any point to it.

* * *

"Mr. Favor! Mr. Favor!"

Gil turned in his saddle, his eyes scanning the trail around him. It was hard to identify who it was that was calling for him over all the bellowing of the cattle, but he soon spotted Wishbone waving his hat at him.

The trail boss brought his horse around and headed toward the cook, who had halted the wagons.

"What is it?"Gil could tell by the look on his face that it wasn't just a small complaint Wishbone had for him.

"Well, Mr. Favor," The cook started slowly,"I hadn't thought too much about that young fella we got tied up back there, but I just now went back to check on him. He's gone."

" _Gone_?" Gil sent his horse around behind the wagon. Sure enough, the kid was gone, leaving behind only the ropes he had cut off of him.

"How'd he manage that?" Gil asked, picking up a strand to examine.

"I dunno,"the cook replied,"We took out everythin' remotely sharp, even the forks. He musta slipped out into the trees back a ways."

Gil sighed, shaking his head and running his fingers through his hair.

"I'm sorry I didn't notice him escape," Mushy said sheepishly.

"Yeah, well," Gil directed his horse back toward point," It's done now. No use in harpin' over it."

 _See, Senior boss? The wind tried to warn you..._

Gil could already hear the voice of Jesús tonight when the Mexican found out.

 _Good grief._

* * *

 **Phew! I just barely made my weekly deadline.**

 **Anyhow. Sorry if it seems a little rushed, but cause it was written just so. But hopefully I have not missed too many errors.  
**

 **Kayley, it's good to see you down there again! :D I'm glad I have your seal of approval on my work.**

 **So until next time,**

 **~ The NightRunner**


	9. Chapter 9

The day was done, and camp was already made. The drovers sat around, waiting for Wishbone's roast to get done. But that wasn't all they were waiting for, and a slightest nag of anxiety lurked throughout the camp, poking at some men more than others.

"Rowdy, I wish you'd sit down," Jim sighed, rolling up another cigarette.

"They should've been back by now," the younger man replied, pacing back and forth in front of the fire.

"I'm sure they're fine, Rowdy,"Gil replied calmly,"They'll prob'ly be along any minute now."

"Yeah, you just keep tellin' yourself that,"Rowdy huffed sarcastically. "Don't tell me you ain't worried about 'em. I think I know you better than that. What if they're in trouble?"

"Pete's perfectly capable of taking care of himself, and her, too." Though the trail boss kept his composure, Rowdy was right; he was just a little worried.

He had tried not to give it too much thought when the pair rode out together earlier that day. They did, after all, have a lot in common and seemed to enjoy each other's company. But that was hours ago now. Pete should have known better than to stay out after dark with the girl. Not only did it look bad to the other men, but with that crazy kid that had tried to hold them up still running loose, and not to mention the possibility of Indians, it was dangerous.

"Someone's comin'!"Joe stood up suddenly.

The rest of the men quickly followed suit, turning to stare into the darkness. Sure enough, the sound of hoof-beats could be heard approaching in the distance.

For a moment, the minds of the men were put to ease.

"Hey, I only hear one horse!"

And the tension was once again on. They waited anxiously, each one silently expecting the worse.

But they were completely thrown off when an altogether different girl rode into camp.

The men stood stunned. She looked like and angel right out of heaven, with her golden curls and her white horse. Her eyes were a sparkling blue and her lips peony pink, both adorning a perfect face of ivory. Her dainty maroon-and-white dress was flowing and immaculate. She was the very definition of beautiful. And as she smiled down on the drovers, Pete and Emily were momentarily forgotten about.

 _After all, Pete could take care of the both of them._

"I hope you don't mind me riding in on you men like this," she spoke first, her voice sweet and high with just a hint of a southern drawl,"But I was a bit wary from riding out here in the dark. When I saw your fire, well I have to admit it's more frightening out here than I thought it would be."

"Oh, ah, not at all!"Gil caught himself staring, but as always, was quick to recover,"We have some roast over the fire that should be ready in just a bit, you're welcome to all you want." He ended by giving her a nod and a polite smile.

Her smile grew, both in size and beauty. "I can't thank you enough!" she began climbing down from her horse. Gil was quick to make his way to her side and assist her.

She took his hand, but held on just a moment longer after both feet were on the ground. There, standing close together in the cool of the night, she smiled for the third time.

"Thanks again," she spoke softly.

And for a time, things seemed to still and silence as they gazed at each other. Fire danced across the two intent faces, blue eyes upon blue eyes, sparks were flying every which way. Even to the rest of the drovers, time seemed to slow down. They could that _something_ was going on between their trail boss and this mysterious girl. Yet what they knew was only a weak grasp on what was truly happening to their Mr. Favor. As he looked down at the girl, it was not just her beauty that struck him, but how much she looked like his wife when they had first met. Truly, for the first time in a long time, he was lost in a moment.

But all magic was brought to a screeching halt as Wishbone clanked a spoon against a metal plate.

"Food's ready, get it while it's hot!"

"Oh!" the girl giggled slightly. Literally everyone in camp had been watching them the whole time. She didn't blush, though, as many girls might have.

Gil took a step back and let her pass. "Excuse me," he said softly. His gaze lingered on her as she moved away, her steps smooth and graceful.

Wishbone, however, only narrowed his eyes slightly. He was glad he had put a stop to all that nonsense.

In only a matter of minutes, everything was back to normal. Or at least what normal would be if a new girl was thrown into the mixture. The men all crowded in around her as best as they could without getting scolded, their eyes wide with excitement and hunger.

Funny how it was. Gil could remember when not long ago, that was Emily's place. Fortunately, this girl seemed just as good-natured about all the dusty drovers surrounding her.

"This looks wonderful,"she told Wishbone as he handed her a filled plate. Then suddenly, as if she had just remembered something she went on. "Oh, please forgive my negligence! My name's Samantha Cassidy."

Rowdy felt a jolt of familiarity strike him. Hadn't he heard that name before? But looking at the girl, he knew he'd never seen her. She had a face that no man could ever forget. No, he must be mistaken.

"We're all happy to meet you, miss Cassidy," Jim smiled, knowing he was speaking for all the men. Each man afterwards introduced himself to the lady.

"So how is it you find yourself out here alone?" Joe asked.

Samantha nodded, holding up a finger while she quickly tried to chew up the piece of beef in her mouth. It was slightly tough, but otherwise quiet good.

"Well, you see, my father owned a farm near here. I wanted to visit the old place, so I got on a stage coach that went just a few miles east of this trail, and just figured upon visiting the ranch and then catching the north-bound stage as it came back up next week. I'd always felt so familiar and safe in these parts that it just didn't seem like it would be any trouble..." She glanced up at the dark sky. "Of course, I made that decision during daylight... and I hadn't figured on the horse carrying my luggage breaking a leg. The poor thing..." She gazed back the way she had come, her eyebrows furrowing slightly in lament. But then, turning back to face the men, she continued. "I suppose if it hadn't been for that misfortune, I would have been there my now. But I just couldn't bare to ride my poor Satin too hard with all that extra weight."

"Satin?" Teddy asked, obviously confused.

"My horse," the girl replied with a small laugh.

"Oh," Teddy turned red.

Gil rolled his eyes.

"Well, miss, I'm not sure if it's safe to go on," Rowdy spoke up, stepping forward,"We've seen hostile Indians around, and just this mornin' someone tried to hold us up."

He had previously stayed toward the back of the crowd, but when Rowdy stepped forward the girl seemed to pause and take him in. Whatever it was, she recomposed so quickly that he later thought he must have been mistaken once again.

Her expression changed to that of concern. "Really? We've never had trouble with the natives before..."

"That's very true, it's not safe," Gil nodded in agreement,"But I might could spare a man to take you there, or even send for some of your folks to come here and pick you up."

Normally he wouldn't be so lenient, but after all, the going of these parts was easy, and he had the men to spare. Right?

"But I don't have any family here,"she replied,"I had just wanted to go back and look around, maybe pick up a few trinkets we left behind."

Now that changed everything.

"Why, you can't go out there all by yourself!" Mushy exclaimed.

The girl shook her head slowly. "I suppose not..."

This once again put Gil in an unusual position. The men all looked at him with begging eyes.

 _Can we keep her?_

But their pleasing expressions were unnecessary. She couldn't go on by herself. They already had one girl, what trouble would one more be?

"Why don't you stay with us until we reach Bainton?" Gil finally asked her,"After that, you can decide what you want to do next."

She immediately brightened up. "That would be wonderful! Would you really do that? I won't be any trouble at all, I'll stay out of your way. I promise."

Gil smiled. "I'm sure it'll be a pleasure."

All this time, Wishbone continued watching her from the edge of the camp. Something about her story was fishy. Something about her was fishy. And there was something about her he just didn't like.

But his thought were disrupted by the sound of hooves approaching.

"I do believe it's our long lost scouts!" Jim stood up, his fondness for the dark-haired girl returning to him swiftly, upon her arrival. The other men smiled and waved at them wildly.

"Where've you two been?"

The blond girl watched as all the attention that had previously been lavished on her was turned to a pair of riders trotting into camp. She sat straight and properly, and since the men were now preoccupied with greeting their friends, she was left with nothing to do but study the two newcomers. The first was a tall cowboy who looked to be in his forties. His features, like the trail boss and ramrod's, were not as rough as some of the other drovers' were. But she knew; he rode a horse like someone who had been in a saddle since he was old enough to sit up. His face was pleasant and approachable, she could tell that he was the type of man who was gentle by nature. But the way he carried himself also suggested that he was not one to be pushed around.

She moved her eyes on to the other person. He he was quiet small. Runty, really. It must have been a young boy. He climbed off of the horse at such an angle that allowed the brim of his hat hide his face. Oh my! Standing on the ground next to his companion rider, he really did look like a shorty, shorter than Jesús. But there was something – something that Samantha couldn't place her finger on – that bothered her about this person.

"Sorry, boss," the man whom the others called Pete told Mr. Favor,"She was showin' me around, and we just got to lookin' at some things and... I guess we got caught up 'n lost track of time."

 _She?_

Pete cast a sheepish, side-ways glance at the shorter person.

"Uh-huh..." Rowdy looked Pete over, trying to be discreet in his glare-down.

The boy then took his hat off, and the golden-haired girl's mouth nearly dropped open when she saw the long, dark braid tumble down, the light from the fire revealing this boy to be a girl.

But not just any girl.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Favor, it really was my fault," Emily apologized, looking up at the handsome trail boss,"I was showin' him a few spots I thought he'd like, I didn't mean to keep him out so long. If I hadn't rambled on so, we prob'ly would'a made it back hours ago."

"I think we both might'a been rambling," Pete admitted with a small smile.

Gil pursed his lips. He believed their story, plus he didn't want to make a scene. But he'd have to talk with Pete about this later.

"Well, just give us a little head's up next time. I thought Rowdy was gonna break a leg from all the pacin' he did."

There was a rumble of laughter, and of course Rowdy's eye-rolling. When they turned to head for the grub, though, Pete was surprised to find another girl sitting there, and Emily stopped in her tracks altogether.

"Oh, this is miss Cassidy," Gil told them, nodding his head to the girl and smiling.

Pete tipped his hat and offered her a smile. "Nice to meet ya, miss," he said politely,"I'm Pete Nolan."

The girl inclined her head and offered him a smile, but seemed greatly distracted and turned her eyes to the other girl. When Pete looked at Emily, he suddenly realized why all the other men seemed to have gotten so tense.

Emily stared analytically at the girl, as if she recognized her but wasn't quiet sure, before her muscles relaxed and she crossed her arms, leaning back on her heels. She didn't look pleased. In fact, she looked quiet vexed, the corner of her mouth curving downward in a small frown.

Samantha got to her feet in a most elegant manner and, clasping her hands together in front of her, approached Emily slowly with smooth steps. While there was no true wavering of her lips, it was obvious by her eyes that Samantha was just as happy to see Emily as Emily was to see her – not at all.

"Well, I don't know why I'm so surprised," the well dressed girl spoke coolly,"You always did seem to be wherever the cattle and men gathered, Miles."

Emily tilted her head just slightly to the side, her gaze equally frigid. "I go by Emily now."

"Oh? Did you finally outgrow _Miles_?"

"I suppose I did."

Samantha gave a somewhat mocking laugh. "In a few years, you might even start introducing yourself as Emilia."

"So what if I do, _Sam_?" Emily retorted.

"It's Samantha and you know it!" the girl in curls snapped, her eyes coming alive with a billow of rage. But upon seeing the look of triumph on Emily's face, she quickly recomposed herself.

 _Samantha... Sam... Sam Cassidy!_

All of a sudden Rowdy remembered where he had heard the name before. His memory went back to the times that Emily had spoken of her childhood best friends, Logan McArthur and Sam Cassidy. Only Rowdy had always just assumed Sam to be a boy, like Logan. And, considering the way Emily had always spoke of them so tenderly, he would have never thought a meeting would look or sound anything like this.

Samantha took several steps nearer to the girl who had once been so close to her, and Emily moved to meet her half way, matching the careful pace. They stopped in front of each other, sizing the other up. Samantha was about two inches taller than Emily, but they looked close to the same age.

"I suppose you look well, all things considered," Samantha said, her tone lacking heart.

"As do you," Emily replied curtly.

"I must say, though, your taste in clothing never has improved." She looked down at Emily's dusty old boots, unimpressed. She picking up her own foot, adorned with a delicate white slipper, and placed it on top of the dingy boot leather. She pressed down, twisting her foot around in a near dainty manner. Emily looked down, considering the circular dusty spot now in top of her footwear.

After a moment of contemplation, Emily pursed her lips. She slowly moved her boot over to Samantha's shoe, and similarly pressed her boot down upon the toe of the white slipper, twisting her foot around. When she retrieved her foot, there was a gritty dark smudge on top of the previously fine shoe.

Samantha slowly looked down at her shoe, then up at Emily.

Emily let out a hiss as she was jolted back by the impact of not a slap, but a hard punch. Samantha had been so quick that Emily hadn't even had any warning.

The men, shocked, reflexively took a step forward. Their first instinct was to rush to Emily's side. But just as suddenly as Samantha had struck her, Emily had lunged and tackled her antagonist to the ground. They rolled and struggled in the dust for several moments while the men tried to decided how to deal with brawling women. Though one couldn't have told just by looking at the seemingly fragile girl, Samantha could pack a punch! But Emily, though smaller in size, was wiry, and didn't have the restriction of a dress.

There was a grunt as Samantha tagged Emily once again in the face, soon resulting in a small, purple bruise. But then the tables flipped when Emily managed to pull herself to the top and shoved Samantha's face into the ground. There was a look of smugness on the dark-haired girl's face as she got Samantha into a headlock. Much to her annoyance, however as the blond insisted on jerking her head back and to the side, effectively resulting in mini head-butts, which didn't help Emily's face any.

Gil Favor was usually very careful to not allow the men to fight on his drive. Without time to stop and think over the situation, he figured it shouldn't be much different with women.

He quickly pressed through the other men, intending to pull them apart.

"Alright, break it up!" Yet he couldn't help but think how strange it felt to be directing these words toward two females. But he was surprised at the change his words had on them. With men, he most likely would have had to rip the two opponents apart. But as soon as he spoke, Emily stumbled back away from her Samantha, who looked like she would have liked to finish the fight, but didn't pursue.

The girls held gazes, communicating their contempt silently through narrowed eyes, before they finally broke apart. They refused to look at each other as they dusted off their duds and straightened their clothing. Samantha's dress looks a little more ruffled than did Emily's shirt and pants, but with some fluffing it was soon almost recovered.

Gil looked at them, trying to gauge the pair. He had always known that women were puzzling creatures, but these two took it to an all new level.

"May I ask what is going on here?" He finally asked, looking from one girl the to other.

"It won't happen again, Mr. Favor," Emily replied, examining a place on her sleeve rather casually.

Samantha, likewise, offered no real explanation.

Gil rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. "Fine! As long as you two keep outta trouble..."

Neither girl responded. Instead, each moved away and took a seat on the opposite side of the camp without seeming to notice the other in any way.

This left the rest of the men torn. They would have liked for the two to sit right next to each other, so that they could be near both of the girls at the same time. But now it seemed that they would have to choose one or the other.

Gil, for his part, went back to sit where he was earlier. That happened to be on Samantha's half of the camp. He wasn't going to lie to himself. He wanted to be near to the pretty blond. Even now, his eyes slowly raised to steal in the sight of the gorgeous young lady. And quiet a lady she was! Her elegance was already displayed in her mannerisms. Her spunk was made evident by decision to come out into this sparsely populated country alone. And her directness, though maybe not always right, was still a commendable quality, and was exemplified by her unhesitance to engage Emily.

He only wished he knew what their conflict was about.

The other men were each making their decision. For Rowdy, though, there really was no decision to make. He went down to sit at Emily's right side as always. Teddy was second to move, and made his seat next to Samantha. Sam and several others soon followed the younger drover, interested in getting to know the new arrival better.

Jim considered the predicament for a moment.

On one hand, that Samantha sure was a pretty little thing. And not that Emily wasn't. By all respects, the little brunette was pleasing to the eye! But Samantha... in all honesty, Samantha must have been the most beautiful gal he'd ever seen in his life.

Then on the other hand, would it really be right to take up sitting on some other girl's left side for that alone? Emily had been as nice a girl as any man could ask for.

And so in the end, loyalty moved Jim to go sit in his rightful spot beside Emily, and was rewarded by a sweet smile.

Wishbone soon came along with a plate for Pete and Emily.

"Why, thank you, Wish!" Emily took the plate he had reserved for her. She cut off a piece of the tender meat with her fork and placed it in her mouth, where it almost melted in a most mouthwatering manner. "Mmmm... this is great, Wish."

Rowdy noticed that the cook had given Emily the tenderloin, the best cut in the whole steer. He glanced over at the blond, who was visibly working on an apparently not all that tender chop of beef. The ramrod looked over at the cook, who was subtly watching Samantha with a look of smug satisfaction.

* * *

"There, that aughta do it," Wishbone finished making the bed in the back of the supply wagon.

"Thanks, Mr. Wishbone," Samantha gave him a smile,"I hope it wasn't too much trouble for you."

Emily, who had her back turned to them, rolled her eyes and made a disgusted face. The gesture hadn't been hidden from Rowdy. But then Emily had always been... expressive. Always polite and friendly toward the men, but still a bit mouthy at times. He only wish he could figure out what her beef was with Samantha!  
And why did Mr. Favor elect to ignore their obvious enmity? Rowdy knew the boss had caught them glaring at each other just a few minutes ago. And before that, the way Emily had suggestively planted the cooking table firmly with the knife she had used cut her meat with when she turned in her dishes. And even before that, the way Samantha had purposely scraped her fork hard against the plate to make it screech, making the one sound that Emily once told the men drove her crazy. Each time Samantha scraped that fork, Emily had shuddered.

Looking back, that dinner had been filled with more than its fair share of awkward moments. when the men simply didn't know what to do or say. And to be honest, Rowdy was glad it was over. But why hadn't Mr. Favor said something to the two of them?

For now, all the ramrod could hope for was that the two would be in a better mood tomorrow.

"Hey, now, what are you doin', Emily?" the ramrod curiously walked over to where the girl was gathering her bedding under a tree at the edge of camp,"Aren't you going to sleep under the supply wagon?"

Emily shook her head as she started straightening out the blankets. " _No, thank you_ ,"she replied,"That Sam snores worse than any drover ever did. I wouldn't sleep near her if the next meal depended on it!"

Rowdy could only inwardly groan.

* * *

 **Well, it looks like I missed my usual Thursday update. I've been pretty busy** **the last week or two, but hopefully I won't make a regular thing of this. Hope you liked the latest developments!**

 **Until next time,**

 **TheNightRunner**


	10. Chapter 10

When Emily woke up, the first thing she normally considered were the birds singing, sometimes near and sometimes in the distance. The second thing that usually registered was the occasional lowing of a steer, followed by the gentle nickering and shuffling of the horses at the remuda. The sounds of dishes lightly clanking as Wishbone and Mushy prepared breakfast would have soon become part of her awareness.

 _Would_ have. There was nothing normal about this day.

It was about three seconds after Emily woke up that she remembered she was mad, when she groggily opened her eyes and glanced over to find Samantha already up and about and buddying up to Wishbone and Mushy. The cook actually just smiled at her!

Oh, but then the worse blow yet came. Mr. Favor came into view, all pleasant and handing her a cup of coffee...

 _He should still be sleeping!_

Emily lay there for a moment so that she could fume without disturbing anyone. Fortunately, comfort came from an unlikely place. On each side of her lay a man peacefully sleeping. Pete, to her right, had his hat covering his face. But his deep, rhythmic breathing was slow, steady, and soothing. Rowdy on her left was gently snoring. That wasn't necessarily a pleasant sound, but Emily had grown used to the familiar, consistent snorts.

That comfort didn't last too long, though. She was annoyed not only at Sam, but at Mr. Favor.

 _How could he give that yellow-belly so much attention?_

He hadn't said a word to Emily since that one time last night, but there he was with Sam.

Sam. She was up to no good, Emily just knew it! That girl had meant nothing but trouble ever since -

A dipper rapping across a metal plate sounded through the camp, the breakfast call to the few who were already awake and alarm clock to the rest. "Food in five minutes!"

Pete jolted slightly. "I'm up..." he mumbled, though still not quiet ready to roll out of his bed mat.

Rowdy simply gave out a small groan.

Some of the anger subsided as Emily turned her head from one side to the other, looking at each man. A small smile grew on her lips. At least she would never lose these two to that fickle beauty. That much she was sure of.

Somewhat settled down by this thought, she crawled out from between the two drovers and rose to her feet. She dusted off herself and grabbed her hat, placing it on her head before she moved toward where the small group of people was gathered. She wasn't going to let Sam, no matter how much she loathed the girl, ruin her day.

"Good mornin'," she greeted them, succeeding in sounding pleasant.

Her welcome was returned by the men, even Gil, though his attention seemed divided.

"Good morning, Emily," Samantha said with a smile,"I see your sleeping habits have changed for the better. As I remember, you used to be the last up."

 _Oooh!_ Emily felt a muscle in her back stiffen ever so slightly. But no, she was NOT going to be provoked so easily!

"Well, that's only to be expected," Emily replied with a smile of her own,"Everythin' changes, ya know."

"Oh, I don't know about that," Samantha replied vaguely. But she was quickly starting to look uninterested as she commenced to arranging the spoons and forks on the table for the men to pick up when they came for breakfast.

Emily inwardly huffed. _What was that supposed to mean?_ But turning to Wishbone, she regained her composure. "Two cups o' coffee, please," she said in a convincingly cheerful manner.

"Comin' right up!" the cook replied, already pouring the first cup.

"Two cups?" Samantha raised an eyebrow in some sort of minimal curiosity.

"For my boys over there," Emily replied, glancing back at where Pete and Rowdy still lay.

Samantha quickly glanced at Gil, then back at Emily. " _You_ own this drive?"

"No," Emily quickly replied, defensively.

Why was there _always_ this much tension when these two got together? Gil did find it a curious question for Samantha to ask, however.

"Your old man always promised to let you try running a drive when you were old enough," Samantha responded slowly, showing annoyance towards her tanned counterpart,"I simply made an assumption."

"Yeah, you always _were_ prone to makin' wrong assumptions."

Before Samantha could reply Emily was already stomping off with a cup of coffee in each hand, leaving the former visibly chafed.

Gil let out a small sigh, pressing his lips together. He could already tell that this was going to be a long day.

* * *

"Hey, Pete, could ya go out 'n call the dawnhawkers in for breakfast for me?" Gil called over to his scout absently as he wrote in that little book of his.

Pete looked up, starting to push himself up to his feet. "Sure th - "

"I'll do it!" Emily quickly said, hopping to her feet from where she had been sitting next to the scout. She placed a hand on each of Pete's shoulders and pushed the already rising Pete back down. "You just sit there'n relax, I'll be back afore ya know it." She smiled and gave him a firm pat on the shoulder, before turning away and whistling for her horse.

"Oh, I can do it," Samantha piped up out of the blue. She stood up just as quickly as Emily had, albeit in a more graceful manner, and much to the surprise of the men brought her fingers to her lips and produced a distinct whistle of her own.

"Why, Sam! That wasn't very lady-like!" Emily gasped in mock surprise,"You're going to give poor Satin a heart attack doing such crude things again!"

"Just keep it up, Al," Samantha returned sharply.

The two horses, which had been grazing together, came galloping in, Trigger first and Satin just a few paces behind.

Samantha quickly turned to go gather up her tack, but Emily took a running start and swung herself onto her horse's bare back.

"You're the one who can't keep up," she replied smugly, and then she was off.

" _Oooh_!"Samantha let a frustrated exclamation as she quickly turned back for her own horse. Taking a running start, she mounted it in the same smooth way that Emily had and set off after the galloping paint. She didn't seem to be bothered by her own lack of tack.

The men watched, visibly confused about what just happened. Gil couldn't help but wonder about it, himself. There seemed to be inconsistencies with his first impression of Samantha and how she started to appear as time went on. She seemed to be obsessed with "properness", as indicated by the way she constantly chided Emily for her lack of it. But it also appeared that they shared a remarkable many experiences; no "seemly" green thumb could just jump a horse like that and ride off bareback. And what of their bitterness and rivalry toward each other? Gil never tried to get too curious, but this one really did nag him.

Wishbone, having already served the rest of the men, came up from behind the trail boss.

"You'd better eat," the bearded man said, handing Gil a plate,"The way things look, we're gonna need all the strength we can muster ta keep those two outta trouble."

Gil grunted, but took the plate. Still thinking, he scooped up a spoonful of grits and thought while he chewed.

"There's just somethin' about that Samantha, though..." Wishbone gave Mr. Favor a sideways glance, a look that Gil was well acquainted with.

 _Suspicion._

"Yeah, well, even nice people can't get along with everybody,"Gil replied in an objective, frank tone," Just 'cause two people don't get along don't mean that they're both bad people."

"Course not," Wishbone returned,"But it's hard fer nice people to dislike someone who ain't done nothin' to 'em."

The cook didn't wait around any longer for another response and scurried off to inform Mushy that he had forgotten to add wood to the fire.

It was just like Wish to take sides.

Gil snorted, turning his eyes back down to his plate. He simply sat there like that for several moments, before something dawned on him.

 _Al?_

Why had Samantha called Emily that? And why did it give him a nagging feeling in the back of the head? Like there was something he should be remembering...

It was then that Samantha came trotting back in on her horse, an unamused expression on her face. And it was apparent why when Emily soon followed with a triumphant expression – and the dawnhawks in tow. It seems Emily had "won".

 _Something had to be done. This can't go on._

"Rowdy," Gil called in a low voice.

"Yeah, boss?" The ramrod, who was in a good mood as he chewed up a piece of bacon, stood up and came to his side.

"I'm gonna need you to help me do somethin'."

"What's 'at?"

"Keepin' those two apart."

* * *

But I was gonna go with Pete this mornin'."

Rowdy rode alongside Emily, thinking of how he could persuade her to stay with him without giving away _why_. He'd already gotten her to come away from camp with him by showing her a little calf that had been born the night before, but now that she'd seen she was ready to move on.

"He'll understand, I'm sure. I just think it's best that you kept company with me right now... Besides, I didn't get to see much of you yesterday." He added the last part for good measure. Hopefully, it was a good measure, anyway.

"Rowdy, I rode half the day with you," Emily replied flatly. What was his problem? She knew he wasn't suffering anxiety just from her periodical absence. But then a thought struck her. She narrowed her eyes just slightly. "This isn't 'cause I stayed out a little late with Pete last n - "

"No, no, nothing like that," the ramrod said quickly. Actually, that did still bother him a little, but that wasn't the point right now.

Emily was quiet for a moment.

"I haven't been keepin' him from his work, have I?" It only now occurred to her that Mr. Favor might not like her running around all over the countryside with his scout, even though there wasn't really any need for him to be out searching for water or grass.

"Nah, no." He couldn't think of any further explanation to give her. He knew she'd have a fit if he told her the truth; that Samantha had insisted upon taking the scout to visit some fish pond or something, and that Mr. Favor had ordered Pete to comply.

"Well look, Rowdy,"Emily said firmly, getting a little tired of his antics,"Pete and I agreed to go out 'n look at Trout Spring. Now. I'm gonna go find Pete, and _I'll_ see _you_ later."

 _Trout Spring, that's it!_

There was no way he could let Emily go there.

"Wait!" Rowdy hadn't meant to sound so desperate, but this _was_ desperate. If Emily found out about all this, not only would there be a powerful bad disagreement (to say the least) between the girls, but Mr. Favor would have his skin for it.

Emily, who had already pulled away, brought her horse to a stop. She turned to face Rowdy again, looking expectantly at him. "What?"

 _Think fast, think fast. What could possibly make her want to stay here?_

"I... just thought you... might be able to show those flank riders how it should be done."

Rowdy held his breath, waiting for her to tell him what kind of a slacker he was trying to get her to do his job.

The change in the girl's expression was, indeed, immediate.

"Are you sure?" she asked, not looking quite certain herself," Mr. Favor might not be too set on that..."

The ramrod let his breath out. _He'd done it!_

Rowdy shook his head, smiling slightly. "Nah, he won't mind at all." _Not if it keeps you girls apart._

Emily thought for a moment, her eyes going ahead to where Pete was supposed to be. "Pete'll be waiting for me up there, I can't just leave him hangin'."

"I'll go tell him you're needed here," Rowdy quickly volunteered,"I'm sure he'll understand. He may even come back over here to see what ya got."

She thought for a moment longer, giving Rowdy one more period of breath holding, before finally deciding on her answer. "Tell Pete I'll be right up, after I do some quick cutting. I won't be long, though!"

Relief is the only thing that could describe what Rowdy experienced when he heard those words. He watched as she raced off towards the flank of the heard, her reception an enthusiastic one when she arrived. A sigh passed through the ramrod's lips. Yet the relief wasn't a full one.

This wasn't the end of it. He could feel it.

* * *

Everything about this felt wrong.

The time was right. The place was right. But the girl was wrong, and that made everything else wrong with it.

Pete just couldn't understand how Mr. Favor could possibly think this was the right thing to do. Making him leave Emily behind to take Samantha instead? It was wrong and it was deceiving, and if Emily ever found out she'd be angry - and even worse, hurt. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

And why'd he have to do this, anyway? Why couldn't he take Samantha later? What _exactly_ was this going to help? And why did Samantha even want to go with him? She hardly knew him!

 _ **Earlier...**_

"Where ya goin', Pete?" Gil had noticed the scout getting his horse ready as soon as he had finished breakfast.

Gil had discreetly ordered Rowdy to make up some excuse to take Emily out to the herd as soon as she finished breakfast so that she and Samantha would no longer be able to make camp uncomfortable with their ever-present tension.

"There's a little spring up ahead I was gonna go take a look at with -"

"You mean Trout Spring?" Samantha quickly picked up on the conversation.

"Well, uh, yeah," Pete replied, surprised," me 'n -"

"Oh! Could I come?" Samantha asked with an excited enthusiasm,"I used to go there all the time when I was younger, I could show you all the little caves and things around there."

 _Emily_ had wanted to show him the caves and canyon near the spring, and the fact was that he enjoyed her companionship. But _obviously_ , he couldn't take both of them, judging by the animosity they never ceased to create by being too close in proximity. He would just have to tell Samantha how it was as politely as possible.

"Well... actually, I was goin' to go with -"

"Of course you can go,"Gil spoke up, ignoring Pete's approaching decline _._

Samantha broke into a dazzling smile and got to her feet. "That's wonderful! I'll go get Satin ready!" And with that, she turned and fluttered away to prepare her horse.

The two men watched as she left, but as soon as she was out of earshot Pete's eyes were on his boss.

"You had no right to do that." His voice was angry. _Very_ angry. Something not too common for Pete.

"I pay you, you work for me," Gil replied in an unaffected tone," I have every right."

"And what am I supposed to tell Emily?" Pete snapped back, "That you forced me to take someone she hates along with us?"

"Not with. Instead of," the trail boss replied coolly.

"That's worse,"Pete replied darkly.

"You leave Emily to me. Just focus on entertainin' our guest."

"Ain't Emily a guest?"

"I don't want to hear any more about it, Pete." Now Gil was starting to sound a little tired of this conversation.

Pete took a moment to calm himself and consider the situation, his eyes still trained on Gil. "This ain't like you, playin' favorites. It's wrong."

"I said I _don't_ want to hear it," Gil replied sharply, "Now get out there and do what I told you."

Pete gritted his teeth as the trail boss had quickly turned to stalk off, leaving him to wrestle with his conscience. And even now, as he rode beside the blond while she chattered on about this and that, kept going by the scout's occasional nod and polite acknowledgment, the conflict was still going on inside him.

* * *

"Hurry up, Rowdy'll catch us any second!"

True to his name, Emily's brown tobiano paint flew across the carpet of grass, quick as the snatch of a trigger.

"I'm comin', I'm comin'!" Jim Quince's sorrel gelding galloped a short distance behind her.

 _She had a head start_ , he told himself silently.

But he was far from annoyed. Heck, this girl was full of great ideas in his opinion. They didn't need all those hands, not on this stretch of land. So it made sense to him why some of them should take a short break. That's why when Emily asked him if he wanted to go look at that spring she'd been talking about, he accepted the invite quicker than the town drunk accepts a free whiskey.

Emily had just wanted to catch a glimpse of the place real quick in case she didn't get another chance before the herd passed by. But she'd never gone there alone, and she wasn't about to make this a first. Rowdy _would_ have been first in line to receive her invite... had not it been Rowdy who seemed to be determined to keep her detained.

What was with him, anyway? Sure, she'd enjoyed messing around with the beeves for a while, but it was totally unnecessary and for the pure sake of sentiment – a sentiment that had now been fulfilled.

"Quince!"

"I'm right here, I said!"

They both slowed their horses, now safely on the other side of the hill and out of sight of the herd, or more specifically, the drovers among the herd. Emily looked pleased that they had slipped away without being detected.

"Well, Jimmy-Bo-Bo,"Emily grinned,"Get ready ta see the finest mess'a trout ya ever did see."

* * *

 _Splash!_

Samantha let out a merry laugh as Pete slipped, tumbling face-down into the chilly waters of the spring. For some time, now, she'd sat there on a small blanket on the bank and watched him. He still had not become quite comfortable with her, but did not decline when she requested for him to show her how to fish by hand.

"Quiet the fisherman you are," the blond teased as the scout rose back up, shaking his head and sending water droplets flying everywhere from the tips of his hair. Samantha ducked away, trying not to get sprayed.

" _That_ I am," he replied, a ghost of a smile in his eyes. When he raised his hands, there was a trout thrashing between them.

Samantha's blue orbs widened in both surprise and delight.

"I think Wish'll be impressed, too," Pete looked down at the good-sized fish as he waded his way back up to the grassy shore. It had since calmed down a bit, but it suddenly started wriggling again. Before he could even think about stopping it, the fish shot out of his hands. There wasn't much intelligent thought running through his brain as he grabbed wildly for the escaping trophy trout, stumbling after it.

Samantha let out a small squeak and quickly tried to scramble to her feet, trying to get out of the way before her dress got fishy water splashed onto it. Unfortunately, she managed it just right so that Pete stepped on the edge of her dress.

"Sorry - !" He tried to get off, but that, in addition to his attempts to recover his fish, in addition to a cruel little root that jumped out to trip him seemingly on purpose, sent the Pete falling forward – right on top of Samantha with an " _oof!"_

For a short while Pete was just there, dazed and looking around blankly. But when things came back into focus, he realized that he was looking down at Samantha, who was smirking back up at him. There was a moment of shock, and he froze there in awkward place on top of her on the ground. But then he heard a little voice in his head shouting, _run, run!_

Yeah, that sounded about right to him.

He staggered back up to his feet, disheveled and trying to think of something worth saying.

Much to his surprise, Samantha didn't seem affected at all. In fact, she calmly got up and stepped up close to him – a little too close to be comfortable, in his opinion. But that wasn't the end of it.

"Don't worry about it," she whispered coyly, "Things happen..."

He subconsciously leaned away from her, growing increasingly uncomfortable. He was still trying to think of something to say that could help get things back on the right track, when he heard someone clear their throat. Someone who wasn't Samantha.

He quickly turned around, and to what very well may have been a form of horror, found Emily looking down at them from her horse at the edge of the tree line. Jim, who had been the one to clear his throat, was there next to her on his own horse, looking away awkwardly.

"I... Emily -" Pete couldn't really explain why, but he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. Like he'd just been caught red-handed doing... he didn't even know what. Something real bad, whatever it was. And before he could even try to explain himself, Samantha went on and only made things worse.

"Oh, Miles, what are you doing here?" the blonde beauty asked, "Shouldn't you be out playing with the cows?"

Emily, in turn, colored a deep red. She looked like she wanted to say something – a good lotta something, as a matter of fact. To everyone's surprise, though, she didn't. Instead, she pulled her horse sharply away and went galloping off.

Pete stood there, mouth hanging slightly open, wishing he had said something and wondering if he should pursue her, or let her cool down. Jim knew he probably had aught to follow her and make sure she didn't go wandering too far, maybe put in a word or two to smooth down her feathers. But then at the same time, he didn't really want to be too close to a seething girl at the moment. Samantha looked around innocently, trying to contain the pleasure of her victory as best as she could.

"Well, I wonder what's got her so awful flustered," her accent drawled slightly, as she turned away to gather up her blanket so that the men couldn't see her smile.

* * *

 **Finally!**

 **I don't even know how long it's been since my last update, but I finally finished this chapter. It's been 99% done for months now, but I just couldn't gather up time to finish that last bit.**

 **SO I got another job and stuff... Who knows how consistent I'll be from here on out.**

 **Thanks for the reviews and stuff, guys! Hopefully I'll be able to get another chapter up in the next month.**

 **So until next time~**

 **~ NightRunner**


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